Merciless
by Zora de Blaise
Summary: Tragedy was the genre of the French Revolution, and no one was an exception to this rule. ArnoXOC. Story based off of Assassin's Creed: Unity.
1. The Poor's Burden

**Hey there guys, Zora(formally known as Oblivion's Creed) here, and I am back!**

**For those of you clicking on the link to this story and have never read any of my other works before(which are terrible; you have been warned), I have done two former Assassin's Creed stories in the past and this one is for the fans anticipating the next game as much as I am.**

**Just like last year's story, Grim, I will be working on this project until the release date of the actual game, so between now and October 28****th****(US release) I will be putting out as many chapters as possible. And yes, I do plan on ending the story on the release date. Remember this is just my interpretation of what the game and its story will be like even though I will know just about as much as you guys as we wait. **

**Also, please, for both my sake and yours, could you as the readers please tell me how my story is coming along as you read? I don't care if you have to say that my work is a piece of shit, I just want to know how I, as an author(a loosely used term), can improve. I want to make my stories enjoyable, and you have the power to tell me how to do so, whether it be the details that I need to provide or just a new writing style in general. **

**Please let me know.**

**Anyway, enough talking, enjoy.**

Chapter 1: The Poor's Burden

France had been in turmoil long before the poor began to revolt against the privileged. The Seven Year's War placed the French Republic in tremendous debt, and by aiding the Americans in their fight for freedom, the nation nearly fell into ruin. For over a decade, the citizens of France had marched to the gates of their King and clergy in order to have their voices heard about the expanding destruction that was taking place on the streets.

I remember watching from the safety of my family's _palais_ as men and women in ragged clothing stirred angrily outside of our home while shouting obscenities and tossing rotten vegetables at our guards. The year was only 1780, two years after France's declaration to join the fight against Britain's rule over the colonies, and the people were already rioting against their government. I would never forget the sight of my father stepping out into the chaos to address the citizens while ordering the cooks to ration some food for the starving patrons.

It was during that moment that I believed he could fix anything.

My father had a welcoming smile, one that could melt ice, and he never showed any other emotion besides happiness. That man was very charismatic and always had a solution to any problem, even if the situation seemed beyond repair. Now that I recall his attitude, he was also quick-witted, never one to miss a good comeback to a joke.

Why had I never noticed the signs before?

I was young, I suppose. All little girls believe their fathers are the warriors we hear from stories and read from books. I used to picture him as a gladiator fighting against men as tall as mountains while lions surrounded him on all sides. It was a thrilling picture to see as a child, and as I look back at those memories, I nearly chuckle at how close the image would relate to the troubles he faced at the time.

Sadly, as the winter of 1781 drew closer, the lions became fiercer and the mountains grew in size. More citizens stormed against our gates and pleaded for food that my family could no longer afford to give. The people we had aided and prevented from starving to death had turned their backs on us, growling slurs while pressing their weight against the iron bars of our fence. It was during this troubling time that I noticed the worry on my father's face. I recall questioning him if the poor waiting outside would forgive us for not being to provide for them, and he glanced at me with troublesome eyes and a warm smile. He patted me gently on the head and told me not to fret.

"_Everything will be alright," _he had reassured before leading me to my bed and tucked me under my covers. He kissed my forehead before distinguishing the candle on my dresser and left the room. I don't remember dozing off, but the recollection of waking to a thunderous clank of metal still reverberates through my skull like the crackle of a flintlock.

When I finally reached my bedroom window that overlooked the acre of land that separated my family's _palais _from the main road to Paris, the familiar glow of the citizen's torches that used to linger beyond the grassy fields were now a mere few feet away from our front door. The place where our fence had once been was torn to the ground from the weight of the crowd that now marched onto our land with pitchforks, sickles and other equipment they could use as a weapon.

I don't think I ever made a sound as I watched the horde of people invade our home. They came through the windows first while a few of them knocked the doors from their hinges. My body was frozen in place as they swarmed the servants like ants to an enemy. They didn't stop their attacks until the last drop of blood drained from the bodies of the men and woman whom I had known my entire life; who had raised me since I drew my first breath. They were not murdered, no…they were slaughtered…worse than cattle.

I was almost certain that I was destined to die that night, but I did not. As I stared wide-eyed at the incoming barrage of human bodies that jumped the foyer steps two at a time, the strong arms of someone behind me grabbed my waist and hurried down the corridor. We quickly entered the last door on the right before the man jammed a candle holder in between the handles of the door. The person had gently lowered me back to the ground and upon first glance at my savior, I was in shock at the man I had seen.

His normally slicked-back, brown hair was in disarray while his blue eyes were wide with adrenaline. This man was not the same person I hugged and spoke to every day; my father would never allow for anyone to see him with cloths in such a disarray and an unshaven beard. Dark, red liquid stained his coat while fresh cuts and bruises marred his face and knuckles.

Almost every night for the next eight years, I would relive that moment of my father pressing his hands onto my cheeks that were wet with tears as he encourages me to be strong. His eyes had watered up as well, but he did not cry. He just smiled warmly before pulling me to his body with a tight embrace while telling me he loves me both in this life and the next. Pounding of fists on the doors drew us apart as my father pulls me to my doll house in the back of the room before tugging on the candle stick that was perched on the wall above us.

When the estate was built over five decades ago, a maze of corridors were designed into the walls to allow the servants to travel the _palais _without upsetting the guests who were visiting our home. My father had the secret passage way sealed off when he inherited the building years before my birth as he saw them irrelevant to the purpose of having servants.

However, at the age of six, I found myself discovering the entrances to this long forgotten tunnel system by accident while playing in my toy room. He must of known that I had come across them because as soon as the small entrance popped open, he turned towards me and kneeled to look at me straight in the eye. His hands were visibly shaking at this point but he held them strong against my shoulders as he kept his voice calm.

"_Follow the corridors to the jardin. Ne pas arrêter. Do not stop for anything!" _He pulled me into his arms one last time before kissing my forehead. _"Stay strong, ma fleur." _

The last thing I saw was the white doors to the toy room break under the pressure of the citizen's bodies before I was tossed into the tunnels and the door sealed tightly to impair my vision from the scene that was to come. The slurs of the citizens were muffled by the thick walls, but I nearly screamed as I heard the thump of a body hitting the ground which was quickly followed by cheers.

Gravity released the tears from my eyes while I sat there in the darkness and listened to the chanting of the people on the other side of barricade. They stood there and sang in victory after slaughtering innocent men and women all because we lived in that estate. The same citizens whom we fed and saved had betrayed us because we could no longer keep giving if we too wanted to survive.

_Do not stop for anything!_

My body did not want to move; I just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear forever. My chest ached as I laid in a puddle of my own tears. I was only eleven years old at the time; sheltered since birth with no idea what the world was like outside the safety of my family's iron barricade that symbolized a borderline between the rich and the poor.

_Ne pas arrêter._

I smelled the smoke first which forced me from the floor out of fear. I may have been young and naïve, but I still had my natural instincts. Smoke meant fire, and fire was never a good sign for anything. Taking a quick breath to calm myself, I placed a hand along the right wall and began my journey to the garden exit.

I knew those tunnels better than I knew the main corridors. The garden was to the left, down a flight of stairs, and then I would take another left into a small opening that would place me right behind a hedge that was installed to hide the entrance to the secret passageway. I had yet to see any of the poor men and women as I exited the estate, but I could hear their hollers of achievement as they danced around the burning _bâitment._

I was almost at a loss on what to do next. These people would of surely killed me on the spot despite my young age just for being privileged. I had to be quick-witted….just like my father….

To this day, I still don't remember where the idea came from, but as soon as I realized that I couldn't stay near the _palais _much longer, I tore the lace from my nightdress and ripped the seams at the bottom to appear as ragged as the poor. All I needed was one final touch. Lying on the ground, I rolled in the soil of the flowerbed until my white gown was nearly the same color as my hair.

As soon as I felt impressionable enough, the image of what happened next still crawls under my skin like fly I can not kill.

A woman who had been standing not too far away immediately noticed me crawl out of the protection of the hedges and instantly rushed in to 'rescue' me. She pulled me away from my burning estate and told me I shouldn't be apart of the chaos and that I should go home.

For a moment I had become so blindsided that I actually tried to attack the woman out of spite.

Go home? _YOU _burnt down my home! _YOU_ barbarians whom my family fed and saved killed every last person I had known and loved! _I _should go home? _NO! I _no longer had anything because _YOU _savages took everything from me!

I never said those words, but I told her and the men that had grabbed me that they just killed innocent people inside that _bâitment, _and that they would never be forgiven. Minutes of seething rage had passed and I was eventually knocked unconscious and sent to an orphanage to be taken care of. However, the walls of that shack could no longer contain me and my hatred for the pheasants of France. Nearly a month had passed since the death of my father, and the shock of it all had faded. I had lost every piece of religious belief I had been taught to respect, and nothing drove me more than the thought of killing the hundreds of people who had stormed my house that night.

I was ready to leave these mongrels to their death and starvation. After everything that had happened, I was not about to die the same way they were. I was going to fight and survive; no matter the cost.

I fled from the orphanage in the midst of winter just as the new year brought another wave of sickness and troubles. The back alleys and thieves of the city had become my salvation in my darkest days as the weather drew colder and the food had become more rotten with each passing day. Every second felt like hours as I did everything I could to stay warm and fed whether it was stealing a blanket, hiding in hay bales of local stables, or plucking food from the vendors in the market.

With each obstacle, I had become stronger, faster, and smarter. The once expansive world I had only seen from the protection of my family's garden were now possibilities; although, at the time, I never thought I would live long enough to see them.

That was until I met Tristan Beaudet.

Spring had finally arrived in Paris, and after nearly four months of desperation, I had made it through the worst season of the year. Other citizens did not fair as well as I had, and their bodies either filled the streets or became so malnourished that they no longer had the energy to march against the oppressors of the city. Eventually the carts would come to haul away the corpses, but before they had, the thieves and I had searched for any valuables the pheasants had kept on them.

I know it was a cheap thing to do, but when you are desperate, sometimes you must do what is necessary.

I remember searching an elderly lady's body when the riot broke out on _Rue de Rivoli _right in front of the _Hôtel de Ville. _City officials who had locked themselves inside the _bâitment _had ordered the guards to take care of the mess and wanted anyone within a two block radius executed for anarchy. I was never part of the protest, but orders were orders, and the guards did not want to disappoint the commands from their masters if they wanted to get paid as well as they did.

I was minding my own business in an alley behind the hotel where no others were, but as soon as I had been seen by a passing officer, I was pursued by the bastard. Miscalculating, I ended up trapping myself in a dead end a few blocks down the street. He merely laughed in my face as he grabbed me by my brown hair and threw me against a building wall before squishing his body against mine to hold me still.

At the time, I did not know what he was talking about as he spoke about liking his women young and wondering if I had bled yet. I just remember kneeing him in the inner thigh before escaping halfway through the alleyway; however, he was quick to recover and tackled me to the ground. I kicked and screamed for him to get off of me, but it only made him smile wider.

With little hope left, I stretched my arms out and reached for anything to defend myself with. I had felt a prick on my right and instantly grabbed the object before slamming it against the guard's head. The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the alleyway as the man hollered in pain. His weight faltered which allowed for me to kick him off before jumping to my feet. The guard cursed while holding his temple where a fresh wound gushed blood at an abnormal rate. He swaggered slightly but the hatred in his eyes told me he was not about to stop now. He no longer wanted to torment me, but instead wanted to drive a blade through my heart.

I almost hit myself for going the wrong way into the dead end where the guard now had the advantage. He was weak from the gash on his forehead, but he could of out powered me if I had made a mistake, but I did not. I held half the bottle in my grip and my wits were still sharp. I too had an advantage over this man. He may have been taller and stronger, but now he was not only weaker, but he was also cocky.

As he finally drew closer, I waited for him to make the first move before side-stepping his wide attacks. His fists hit open air as I ducked before slamming the broken end of my container into his gut. As predicted, the sharp pieces pierced his skin and drove in deeply, allowing me to end this fight for good. Twisting the handle, the bottle broke more skin before I slid the glass across his abdomen. The guard grunted at first while his hands quickly covered the wound to prevent the blood from flowing, but it was no use.

His brown eyes gazed into my blue ones as he fell to his knees and pleaded for help; however, he was not going to receive any…at least, not from me. The man was slowly dying in front of me, but I felt nothing. The officials he had worked for oppressed the citizens which caused them to march against my family, and what did the clergy do? Nothing! They visited the estate after the incident and found my father's and servant's heads on spikes in front of a pile of ash. They saw what became of men of power and they still would not aid the citizens.

All that anger I had for the people who had stormed my home all those months ago was now gone. I wanted every clergy and noble man dead for the pain they were pressing onto the poor. It was driving us mad, and as I watched the man die, I realized I had become the same person who would of invaded my family's estate and killed every last privileged human being.

Just as I was about to scream in anger, a hooded figure had jumped from one of the lower terraces of the buildings around me and slowly made his way over to our location. He held up his hands as soon as he had my attention as though he was showing a sign of trust, but his outfit alone made that impossible for me to accept.

He was a man of average height that wore a dark brown coat over a white waistcoat with sandy-colored breeches and leather gaiters. The newcomer's lips twirled upward in a warming smile that mimicked my father's; however, the weapon strapped to his gauntlets stopped me from relaxing. He ushered towards the guard whom was still drowning in his own blood on the ground as he crept closer.

"_I think it is time to end his misery," _the man calmly stated right before he extended a blade from a hidden device on his wrist and thrust it into the guard's heart. My mouth had fallen agape as I watched the scene before me unfold in less than a second.

"_Repose en paix,"_ he muttered while closing the dead man's eyes with his index and middle fingers. From beneath his hood, the newcomer glanced up at me with a light smile as he retracted his blade back into its sheath. _"You should go now before more show up." _

He must of taken my silence as an understanding because he saluted in an foreign fashion before rushing towards a building. In pure confusion, I thought he was going to run straight through the wall, but to my surprise, he began climbing the stone and wooden structure. For a moment, all I could do was watch as he fluidly transited from terrace to terrace before easily ascending to the rooftops by the use of crevices indented into the house's design.

As soon as I noticed that he was getting away, I began to follow after him from the streets below. So many questions had run through my mind the moment that man's blade pierced the guard's skin, but I was so petrified in fear that I couldn't muster up a word. What was that device on his wrist and how is he able to climb so swiftly on the buildings? Was he an _ange? _

My tiny feet pressed onwards as I began to stray a few blocks behind him. I was fast, but not as fast as this man. My naive mind thought that he must have had hidden wings I could not see because I had no other explanation for his improbable movement, and yet, I continued to chase him through the throng of people gathered around to riot in the streets.

He finally stopped at a cross section where several horse carriages had been toppled to barricade the guards out. The poor citizens slashed and hacked to keep the officers away, but snipers from the rooftops opened fire against them to allow access.

The cloaked man surveyed the scene twice before gliding to the next building like an eagle and sliced the throats of the snipers before jumping to the next set of men. I observed him in awe as he did all of this effortlessly with such precision and elegance. Just by his attire and ability to kill, you would think he was a secret soldier for the King, but why would his Majesty ever send a man out to murder his own officers? He had the authority to recall any and all troops from battle with just a flick of the wrist.

So for what cause did this angel fight for?

Glancing between the man and the citizens trapped in their own barricade, I had finally noticed what he was doing. He was giving the people a chance to fight back. Picking up a broken brick off the corner of a house, I had rushed into the fray and slammed the clay slab against the skull of the nearest officer.

In sheer shock, everyone in the square had turned to gawk at me as I stood like a sheep amongst wolves, but instead of fear, I'm sure they saw fire in my eyes. I remember raising my fist into the air and screaming a battle cry for all of Paris to hear. The guards were frozen on the spot as their attentions snapped from me to the now cheering pheasants who began to move in on them like wasps.

With veins full of adrenaline, I glanced up at the location of the man only to see him staring right back at me. I had gotten his attention, and that was all I needed in order to get him to talk.

Being safe about how I approached the situation, I ran into the nearest alleyway and waited closer to the street just in case this man was not the person I had perceived him to be. As if on queue, he dropped down from the rooftops like a bird swooping in on its prey. That warm smile adorned his lips and he did not draw any closer than a few feet for both my safety and his own.

"_You are a different one," _was the first thing he had said as he leaned against one of the buildings with his arms crossed over his chest.

"_And what does that make you?" _I had retorted. To this day, he still terrifies me in a way, but not like he did back then. I did not show it though; I wasn't about to let him have that pleasure.

He had chuckled, but his smile did not falter. He was so relaxed even after handling a situation so dire. I was… jealous.

"_What is your name, child?" _he asked.

"_Nicole," _I replied with a sternness in my voice. I chose never to reveal my last name to anyone in case anyone were to recognize it, and this man was no exception.

"_Well, Nicole, want to give me an explanation to why a child is taking part in a fight that she shouldn't be a part of?"_

I held nothing back as I looked him straight into his green eyes with fierce determination on my face. _"I have every right to be in this fight. These men oppress and starve us. Rich or poor, we will all die under the influence of tyranny." _

For a second, his façade had faltered to show a hint of surprise, but sadly, he repressed it as he pushed himself from the wall to squat in front of me. _"And how do you plan on doing that?" _he questioned.

"_I was hoping you could help me with that." _

I returned a smile of my own which made him chuckle. He did not laugh at the idea of me being trained, but at the thought of child, a little girl, wanting to do a man's job. It was a new concept; something he and the others of the brotherhood did not think about incorporating inside the French establishment, but there was always a first for everything.

And that is the tale of how I made it to the year 1789: the official start of the French Revolution.

The true beginning of my story…


	2. Versailles

**So much research….**

**I think I did enough reading on the French Revolution to make my head explode, but I learned a lot of cool and disgusting things about the era. Anyway, for those of you who are unfamiliar with my stories, I try to stay close to the historical events that were happening at the time to help motivate the direction of the characters and their development as human beings. **

**Also, like I've said before, please don't be afraid to ask questions or tell me something that I've messed up because anything and everything you have to say does benefit the story's progression.**

**Enjoy. **

Chapter 2: Versailles

Seven years have passed since the last time I stood in this square on _Rue de Rivoli._

Even after the wars had ended and the citizens of France were in a calmer state of mind, little had been done to solve the growing food crisis that plagued the nation, and with winter approaching, the people were becoming restless. Rumors of a reception for the King's bodyguards fueled an outrage amongst the people which lead to the army that nestled the streets below our vantage point.

My colleague and I stand at the edge of a building rooftop as tens to hundreds of women amass at the Parisian markets down the street from the _Hôtel de Ville. _They stomp and shout as they speak to the public about the injustice happening to the poor while the rich reap the benefits. Even members of Lafayette's National Guard had swapped sides to provide protection to the citizens in attendance.

I watch the situation below while my lips barely turn upward at the thought of the female population taking a stand on the oppression set by the clergy. It was about time the women of this city began getting involved in the affairs of men. We may have not had a voice in the past, but what man avoids a mass of the same people who bear their children and kept the family fed?

"Is that a smile I see?" a voice chimes causing me to frown.

I glance to my left at the brown-cloaked figure sitting on the edge of the building while his legs dangle above the crowd. When Tristan had brought me with him to the brotherhood all those years ago, it was shocking to discover that he was only eight years older than I, and in the last seven years, he had yet to change in both appearance and maturity.

"You must be seeing things. Have you eaten anything today?" I joke as the women in the square began marching toward the _Hôtel de Ville._

"Is that not why we are here?" he smiles before we both jump from the building and clamper down the side of it.

As soon as our feet hit the ground, we merge with the citizens and move with them to their destination as the women chant the discriminations they wish to cease. Tristan and I share a few understanding glances as we near the _Hôtel, _but we don't say a word. He knew how I felt about this place, but we were assassins; our duty was to the people first, not ourselves.

As soon the crowd approaches the city hall, my companion and I effortlessly maneuver into the back alleys while the guards became overwhelmed by the sheer number of people at the door. The two of us waste no time as we begin to scale the vertical wall that lead to the roof where snipers sat in anticipation to fire. Without alerting any of them, we slit their throats and lay them quietly down on the tiles before climbing into an open window on the top floor.

The moment we enter, Tristan places his gloved index finger to his lips before pointing towards a guard that stands in front of a window overlooking the street. Without even taking aim, I release the mechanism on my wrist which quickly launches a dart into the neck of the soldier. With swift feet, my dark-clad friend catches the man's body as it slumps before lying him gently onto the ground. We do not hesitate to continue down the corridors while remaining as quiet and graceful as a cat would have been.

As we proceed deeper into the _bâitment_(building), we both feel the chill of apprehension flow down our spines. Our eyes meet for a brief second as if deciding whether or not we should listen to this paranoia feeling. The door to the visiting Marquis' room is barely a few feet away, and all presence of the guards was being used to defend against the mob outside. Hesitant for the first time since we began this mission, Tristan grabs the handle to the door and flings open the wooden apparatus only to find an empty _chambre(_room).

"What the hell?" I ask as we both move further through the elegant interior to search for clues, but to our dismay, there were none.

"They knew we were coming," Tristan growls before grabbing a vase and tosses it across the room. The porcelain shatters noisily against the white walls, but he shows no sign of regret as I give him a look of disbelief. Did he want the guards to come?

"We should go before someone decides to investigate your tantrum," I say, but he merely holds up a hand to signal for me to stop.

"We are not leaving until we figure out where the Marquis has decided to hide," he retorts as he glares beneath his hood out the window and into the streets below.

"We don't have enough time. The others are waiting on our signal!"

I see his fists clench hard against the edge of the table as he turns to glare at me. He opens his mouth to bellow back a response, but instantly shuts it as both our eyes catch movement at the door. A man dressed in the blue uniform of the guards stands at the entrance to the room with wide eyes and an open mouth ready to shout out an alarm. Tristan gives him no time to do so as he glides across the _chambre_ and pins the officer to the wall with the tip of his hidden blade breaking the skin of the man's neck.

"Where is Marquis Sainte-Eulalie?" my companion questions, but the guard looks as if he lost all ability to speak. "Either answer or get tossed to the peasants." (Yeah, I know I misspelled it last chapter)

"V-v-Versailles. All the o-officials were m-moved to the Versailles yesterday," the man stutters at last.

Tristan smirks as he loosens his grip on the guard's coat and retracts his hidden blade. "Was that so hard?" he asks before slamming a right hook into the man's jaw, knocking him out cold.

"You need to work on that temper," I say as my colleague passes my location and continues toward the window that lead to the back alley.

"Why is that?" he pouts as he turns to stare at me while I follow behind him.

"Because your wrath might be the death of you," I reply as I try to pass him, but he blocks my path.

"I'm not the only one with anger issues, you know?" he remarks while a joking smile adores his lips. I want to snap at him, but his playful attitude nearly causes my serious façade to fall.

"Let's just get to the Versailles before we miss our chance," I retort as I push him towards the _fenêtre(_window) with a grin forming on my face.

"Ten _assignats_(currency of the French Revolution)says you just want to get to the _Place d'Armes(_Palace of Versailles) because you want to go sight seeing."

Without a second thought, I shove Tristan through the aperture before following his flailing body down the side of the building.

X

Two of our fellow members of the Brotherhood met with Tristan and I underneath the protection of the flying buttresses of Notre-Dame before we set out on our voyage on _La Seine(_longest river in France). The boat trip gave us an hour's rest before we were forced to continue the rest of the way on foot, but none of us minded. As Assassins, we did not receive many opportunities to relax.

"Are you sure they will march here?" our blue-cloaked brother questions as we discreetly circle the golden gates of the palace.

"You've clearly never pissed off a woman before, Zacharie," I joke which earned a smile from the rest of the group.

"The rioters were not just women either," states Oliver who wore a green-colored assassin robe.

Before Tristan and I fled the seen of the _Hôtel de Ville, _we lingered within the crowd to give them hints on where they should channel their anger next. Versailles may be heavily guarded, but like city hall, it probably would not be able to withstand the opposition of thousands of citizens at its door, and if there was something I had learned a long time ago it was this: once you enrage a woman, the rest of her army would surely follow.

"I think it would perhaps be better if we encouraged more to the cause," Zacharie announces as we make another sweep of the area. "The homeless in the area are plenty and I am positive they would not mind taking revenge on the same men who took everything from them."

Tristan stops in the midst of our walk and turns to gaze at our brother. "That…is not a bad idea."

Zach smiles. "And for a moment I thought you were going to insult me."

"…_Enfoiré_(Motherfucker)."

"And there it is."

"_Les enfants, allons-y(_Children, let's go)!" I say while trying to suppress a smile. "We need to split up and gather our resources! Zacharie and Oliver, you two are going to be encouraging the starving to have a 'talk' with the officials while Tristan and I set the perimeter to our advantage. Agree to meet at the _Cathédrale Saint-Louis de Versailles?_"

Everyone nods at once before saluting to one another. None of us know for certain when the crowd would make its appearance, but we had to make sure we were prepared because we may never get a chance like this again.

X

Just as I thought this day was not going to be any more messy, nature had chosen to prove me wrong. The devilish storms crept over our heads nearly an hour or so ago, and had yet to cease as Tristan and I pressed towards the _cathédrale. _As we leapt across the rooftops of the nearby buildings, we notice the crowd slowly gathering around the first of the golden gates guarding the palace while the familiar glow of torches rises up the hill from the east.

"_Dépêche-toi(_Hurry)!" Tristan calls as he signals to move faster.

We need to be at the gates in order to merge with the crowd once they arrive; however, we were too far to make it on time. Stopping in mid-strife, my companion turns to gaze at me as I nearly impact into his broad torso.

"Go to the gates and follow the plan," he orders causing me to arc a brow. "We just need to get one of us inside or risk any luck of having this opportunity again."

"But what about you and the others?" I ask as my attention shifts between him and the crowd below.

"I'm faster than you," he replies, but without the familiar hint of his usual ego. "I will be able to retrieve Oliver and Zach and we shall meet with you inside the _Château _if we are too late." Reluctant, I nod before moving towards the edge of the building. "Safety and peace," Tristan calls out as I take a leap of faith towards a wooden beam half-way down the structure.

I effortlessly grab a hold of the top with precision before swing onto an empty flowerbed someone had placed in the window. Without hesitation, I jump for another beam jutting out below my location before using it to propel myself safely to the stone pavement.

I run the rest of the way to the entrance of Versailles where now an army of 7,000 women, not including the men who followed, were armed with cannons and a variety of small weapons. They quickly merge with the patrons whom my fellow brothers had gathered and together they push on the gates until the guards could no longer hold.

Just as I thought that this march would turn into a riot, I was surprisingly startled as members of the assembly made an appearance in order to discuss demands. The crowd fell silent as the men address the leader of the people, Stanislas-Marie Maillard, before leading him and a few others into the palace. In the mean time; however, the officials let the rest of us walk the grounds where we could find rest from the rain.

Sadly, this did not apply to me.

Observing the guard's movements, I wait as they move in a rotation before scaling the side of the _palais(_palace) and into an open window on the next floor. The elegant and clean white walls of the interior are painful to my vision, but the gold trimming had to be the worst. After living in my family's estate, I thought I had seen what true nobility was like, but I was proven wrong. This _château _was the prime example of ego and narcissism.

Staying low and close to the walls, I circle a corner and remain hidden behind a statue of David as a few noblemen discuss what to do about the citizens outside in worrisome voices. Peaking my head from my hiding spot, I search for my target, but alas he was not with the group. I am about to continue on my way when an interesting topic catches my attention.

"Do they really believe they can negotiate with those savages?!" cries a plump man as he stares out the window into the palace _jardins(_gardens).

"The people are restless and hunger," a thinner individual chimes in with a hint of laughter in his voice. "As long as we entertain them long enough, the poor will take whatever spoonful of shit we offer them."

I scoff out of anger, but I know there is nothing I can do right now. I have an agenda to attend to; however, this man's throat could be in the midst of the onslaught that was to happen later. Staying silent, I move away from the statue and continue down another corridor on my right.

The Versailles was built with very limited hallways in order to protect the officials of the estate in a crisis such as the one stirring outside. Instead, the _chambres_ were connected to other rooms that were easy to lock so that whomever was in trouble could rush to another safe area while the pursuer was busy with the doors. It was a smart tactic I have to admit. With everything looking the same, I feel as though I am walking in circles as I enter yet another white and gold room that looks just like the last. Was I even getting closer to the Marquis?

My feet halt as I listen for anything in the vast maze of the _château, _but all noises seem to cease. Did I go the wrong way? I turn to retrace my steps to my previous location, but the sight of a figure causes me to get in a defensive position. Upon inspection of the person, I nearly slap myself for my own paranoia. The person looking back at me was my own reflection in a mirror that stretched from the floor to the ceiling.

I felt like an idiot as I gaze at the street-beaten solider dressed in an off-white, beaked hood. Unlike my brothers, I prefer the traditional red and white colors of the order rather the dark clothing that had been adopted. My braided, brown hair hung out of my hood while my thin jaw was the only part of my face anyone could ever see. My neck was also exposed thanks to my large collar of my white undershirt, but a black corset lances up my torso to make sure I never have the embarrassment of ever accidentally exposing myself. Dark brown leather gaiters cover my black trousers and only my left hand is equipped with a gauntlet that holds my hidden blade.

I sigh as I study the tired, blue eyes of the woman in the mirror. Maybe I will celebrate with a drink after this contract is finished and relieve myself of this stress even if it was just for a few hours.

As I head back to retrace my steps, I hear the familiar crackle of a cannon before the burst of a window shatters close to my location. Immediately dropping to the floor, I listen carefully to the crying wails of the panicking clergy and set off in their direction without hesitation.

Those waiting outside must of grew impatient with the delayed negotiations as yet another cannonball was fired into the walls outside of the palace. I am forced to cover my face as tiny pieces of rubble and dust gravitate from the ceiling to the floor, making it seem foggy in the delicate corridors. The voices of the clergymen draw closer, but I am unable to pin their location through the chaos.

Just as I believe that I have found the holding room and begin picking the lock, I feel the cold nose of a barrel on my temple. "Get up!" the guard orders and I reluctantly listen. Placing my lock pick back in the sleeve of my coat, I raise my hands up in surrender, but I never turn away from the door. "Now back up slowly," he growls, and again, I follow his commands.

As soon as the barrel of the rifle pokes the center of my back, I instantaneously turn to face him and knock the shaft of the gun upwards so that he fires into the ceiling. The rest of his takedown was pathetically quick and instead of hiding his body, I just go back to my lock picking as if I was never interrupted; which was a mistake on my part.

"It came from over here!" I hear a voice call causing me to stop once again. Was I ever going to get a break?

Cursing my own stupidity, I flee the corridor and rush through the maze of _chambres _which inevitably leads me into a crowd of soldiers guarding the hallway. They turn to stare at me in disbelief while my eyes try to find another escape route in this impossible place; unfortunately, I was at the end of my rope. A few of the guards were quick to act and ready their rifles on me, and that's when my attention falls on the window.

Without thinking, I make a dash for it and shatter the glass as I fall from the second story of Versailles. Unlike my many other attempts at this in the past, the palace did not have any close buildings or trees to break my fall, so I force myself to tuck and roll as soon I impact the pavement.

I scream for only a second before I quickly bite down on the skin of my arm to suppress any noise. The pain that shot from my foot to my thigh was unbearable, but what was worse was hearing the bone break as soon as I hit the ground. The skin of my arm broke in between my teeth, forcing me to let go. The worst of the torment was over, but I still need to escape before the guards find me.

Black dots filter in and out of my vision as I ignore the intense agony and stand on one foot. The sun was just about to disappear for the night, but there was still enough light left for them to detect me if I was caught in their line of sight. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I limp away from the _château _and into the acres of _jardins_ that resided behind Versailles.

I did not get far pass the _Parterre de Latone _when I heard the orders that would end my life if I did not find a safe location and soon. I hurry further into the green landscape and disappear into the _Bosquet du Dauphin, _which, thankfully, was empty of anyone else.

I breath a sigh of relief as I slide to the ground to rest my leg and think of plan to get out of here. I still can not believe I fucked up out of the everyone else in the group. We needed the Marquis for information, and now thanks to me, he will now flee from our grasp for God knows how long. I want to scream at my ignorance, but I force myself to stay silent. First I have to get out of here alive, then I can beat myself up.

As I try to stand, my arms collapse underneath my weight causing me to fall, and thanks to my idiot self, I use my hurt leg to try and stop that. I have to bite my arm once more and this time I think I left a scar.

"Why am I such a fucking idiot?" I ask myself as I gaze up at the darkening sky. Only a few more minutes of light left and maybe I will have an advantage in order to escape this nightmare.

"You shouldn't worry so much. The situation was lost not because of you, but the inability to control the crowd," an unfamiliar voice states causing me to snap my head to the dark-cloaked figure that blended with the foliage.

"Who are you?" I ask as I ready my phantom blade.

"A friend," he replies as he takes a step out of hiding with his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "My name is Arno Dorian. I was sent by Alphonse d'Aramitz to aid in this contract after he received word that the Marquis Sainte-Eulalie fled to this location."

"If you are here to help then why do you not go after the target?" I question through barred teeth. The pain was not numbing like it normally does, and I'm sure it was from my stupid move.

"There are three brothers already inside Versailles as we speak. I would be of better use saving you than getting in their way."

As much as I did not want to admit it, the man was correct. I examine his face trying to catch a glimpse underneath his dark blue hood, but the night made it impossible to see his eyes.

"Fine," I say as I try to stand. "We agreed to meet at the _Cathédrale Saint-Louis de Versailles, _so that is where we are going! No further!"

I see his lips twirl upward as he effortlessly lifts me from the ground despite his thin form and holds on like a man holds his new bride. "No worries, _madame. _I will see to it that we arrive safely."


	3. Dorian

**Wow….them reviews.**

**I can not even find the words in order to thank you for the amazing support you guys are giving this story. I've recently been recovering from depression, and every new review I receive has put a smile on my face. It really is a great feeling to finally have motivation again and to have all you awesome people out there wanting more.**

**Also, I've been getting a few messages and reviews as of late about how some of you love this story and want to make your own, but you don't think you are good enough to do so. Guys, let me tell you a little secret: I'm dyslexic. That's right, I can not read a proper sentence without my eyes and brain fucking it up.**

**But why do I keep writing then? Doesn't it discourage me when I have to reread the same paragraph over and over again to make sure I got it right?**

**I love to write, and after doubting myself for so long, I never let my handicap stop me. I've been writing fan fictions since 2005, and although those stories were trashed due to terrible writing and plots, I just kept writing. And if you guys still don't think you are good enough to post the story because of Grammar or unclear details, get a close friend to be your editor. **

**Thanks to an old friend of mine, KajiMori, who happened to be the daughter of my 9****th**** grade English teacher, I was able to become more confident with my writing process. **

**I know this is a bit of a longer author's note, but you guys really are amazing and I just want you to know that.**

**Enjoy. **

Chapter 3: Dorian

I could not tell what hurt worse: my leg or my pride. Arno had splint the broken limb with wood from an empty wine barrel and hemp from a discarded sack before we entered the _cathédrale _to rest on a pew near the center of the church. Some of the patrons whom had fled the chaos that bombarded the palace had taken refuge here as well, giving the two of us ease from being spotted by patrols. We sit in silence and listen carefully to the people's perspective about what went on while I was inside the _château_.

According to them, negotiations went off without a hitch, but the officials only supplied so many of the starving, leaving a great quantity unsatisfied. Tired and angry at the selfishness of the clergy, the poor opened fire on the officials before storming the inside of the palace. Although this was a victory for the citizens, it also lead to the transfer of the royals back to the safety of Paris and away from the open fields of the country.

I sigh in defeat before making myself comfortable on the hard wooden benches. If I was forced to wait for my friends in this musty place, I might as well try to relax while doing so.

"What made you decide to jump through the window?" Arno questions out of the blue causing me to open one eye to glance at him. Unlike myself, the assassin is stiff and looks ready to attack at any second. His leg bounces up and down while his elbows rest on his knees.

Must be a rookie.

I shrug before placing my hands behind my head. "It was either get loaded with bullets or take a leap of faith. The latter sounded like a better decision at the time, so I took it."

I hear him shift causing my attention to turn to the dark-cloaked man once more. He stares at me with a hint of disbelief and lips parted as if he wants to say something about my rash behavior, but he remains silent.

"Let me guess: you want to say something along the lines of it being a stupid choice when there could have been other options I may have missed?" I ask as I sit up to stare back at him. He doesn't say anything, but nods. I let out a breath of air before turning my head to glance around the _cathédrale_. "You must be new to the brotherhood," I state before looking back at him.

He nods one more. "To be honest, this is my first request. I did not expect them to throw me into the chaos this early."

A smile grows on my lips. "Alphonse has a bad habit of doing that, but not without reason."

Arno returns the smile, but it quickly fades as he glances around the church. "Out of all the places he wanted to send me, it had to be back here."

"Back here?" I question with an arced brow. "Are you from Versailles?"

He's silent at first, but he eventually bites his bottom lip before turning his full attention towards me. "_Oui(_yes), I am, but that's a story for another time."

It's my turn to bite my lip as I want to engage on his history, but I know how he feels. There are some stories worth telling, but the tragic ones; however, they stay locked away forever. "The location could have been worse. My first assignment was a secret brothel for the clergy that was being run underneath a _cathédrale," _I say to break the tension between us.

Although he appears to be stoic, the corners of his lips curl slightly upward. "And how did that go?"

"My first mistake was being noticed, but the nobleman thought I was a prostitute so he dragged me to his room. From there it was mostly luck escaping from being raped and killing the bishop who ran the operation."

"You talk as though you shoot into smoke and hope you hit your target."

I don't mean to, but I laugh. This new recruit summed up my life in one simple sentence. "_Désolé(_sorry), but I've never had anyone explain my tactics in such a manner before."

"It's a bit of a brash strategy," he jokes, but I know better. He is making his own evaluation of me.

"When the walls come tumbling down, and there is no one there to guide you, being brash means having the instincts to survive," I retort with a playful grin.

For the first time since I've joined the Brotherhood, I've only seen one person smile at me the way Arno was right now. Tristan had given me that same look during my Master's ceremony as our mentor branded my left ring finger with the mark of the Assassins. Did he really see me as an equal as well?

"Nicole!"

Nearly shocked at the voice, Arno and I are both glance up to see my three companions rushing down the aisle towards our location. Tristan is far in the lead with Zacharie limping in the back. Oliver strays a few steps ahead of the blue cloaked assassin, but he keeps an eye on his condition the entire time.

"What happened to you?" my friend asks while sitting next to me on the pew. He first inspects my leg, tapping it a few times in certain areas to check the location of the break before he decides to pull my hood from my head. I make a light squeal of confusion as I try to place my beaked accessory back where it belongs, but Tristan already has his hand on my chin to inspect any injuries that may have been inflicted on my face.

"I'm fine!" I say as I push him away from me. In an instant, my hood is on my head again signaling my friend to back off.

"And who are you?" Tristan questions as his attention turns toward the newcomer.

"Arno Dorian," the dark-cloaked man replies as he gazes at each of the male assassins around him. "Alphonse d'Aramitz sent me to aid in this assignment; however, as soon as I arrived, the three of you had already entered the palace while the _madame_ had become injured after the attack made by the citizens."

I feel all pairs of eyes fall onto my crippled form causing me to frown. "I fucked up and paid for it, okay? Did you happen to get the information from the Marquis at least?" I question to bring the attention off of me.

"Some of it," Oliver interjects. "We didn't have enough time to beat it out of him before the citizens broke down the doors."

"And they weren't too happy about us getting first dibs," Zacharie inputs as he removes his hand from his bloodied sleeve to show a bullet wound.

I flinch at the sight of the flesh wound, but the sight doesn't bother me. "So what all did we get?"

"Locations of food storages… names of important figures the Templars want to kill….Oh! And a brothel back in Paris that is being used as a scandal for blackmail," Zach lists using the fingers on his free hand.

Oliver rolls his eyes, but hides his laughter behind a smirk. "We need to return to Paris and report the information. I figure that since you two are injured…" he states as he glances between Zacharie and I. "…then one of us should stay behind to help you get back while the other two travel ahead."

"I will stay behind," Tristan announces causing the four of us to look at him with aware eyes.

"That doesn't sound like a good idea…" Zach states, earning a nod from the rest of us.

"He's right. You're the fastest, which means we are going to need you to make the trip," I agree, making the man slightly pout. "Oliver, you can go with him. Dorian knows the area, so he will be able to get Zach and I around the city with ease."

Tristan is about to retort, but my glare shuts him up. Zacharie sits by my side as my two other companions say their goodbyes and begin heading towards the exit. As Tristan passes Arno, I see the bigger man grab the dark-cloaked assassin by the arm before leaning in to whisper something in his ear.

"They better arrive to the bureau safely," he threatens causing the smaller man to smirk.

"I would never dream of any harm befalling them," Dorian remarks causing Tristan to harshly let go of his arm.

As soon as the two are out the doors of the church, Arno turns to Zach and I with his eyebrows knitted together. "Is he always this way?" he asks.

"Only when it concerns Nicole," Zacharie replies while pointing his thumb in my direction. I glare at the assassin, but we both knew it was true. Tristan has an unhealthy concern about my well-being.

"_Allons-y(_Let's go)," I say as I push myself from the pew and lean on one foot. "I want to get home and sleep."

X

Although I had asked Arno to fetch anything I could use as a crutch, he refused to listen and carried me a few miles from Versailles before we paid a wagon to take us to _La Seine. _I had almost fallen asleep several times both in the wagon and boat ride back to Paris, but I had compelled myself to stay awake until we reached the bureau. The three of us were quiet for the most part, talking only when needed to, but you could feel the uneasiness in the air.

"Can I ask you something?" Arno starts after Zacharie had fallen asleep on a stack of potatoes.

I reluctantly open my right eye to glance at the dark-cloaked man, but instantly close it. "Go ahead."

"Why did you join the assassins?"

Now that was a question I wasn't really expecting…well, I was…but he didn't seem like the kind to ask something personal.

"I have my reasons," I reply as I open my heavy eyes to observe him. He merely nods like he understands my answer.

Not many in the Brotherhood grasp the idea of personal vendettas since the majority of them were bred to be Assassins. This man; however, was not like that.

"You could of moved on, you know?" Arno states as our eyes meet. "A woman with beauty such as yours could of married a clergyman."

Heat radiates from my cheeks at the compliment, but my indifferent façade remains strong. "You could of done the same. The noble women of France really love the mysterious types, but yet, here you are."

He smiles widely but instantly drops his head so his hood conceals it. "I'm not worthy of such titles."

"And I find the life of a Lady a dull one," I retort with a grin of my own. "We shall call this argument a draw."

"Another question then?"

With a sigh, I wave my hand at him. "Go on."

"You're obviously young, but…"

He fights to find the words, or the confidence, to ask me the one question everyone wants to know:

"You want to know how old I am?"

He nods, but doesn't say another word.

"Nineteen years as of next week," I reply, earning a look of disbelief from the man.

"_Vraiment(_really)?"

It's my turn to nod. "What about you?"

"_Vingt-et-un(_Twenty-one)."

He is older, but still has so much to learn. "Well, Dorian, we both need the rest before we get to Paris. I suggest you take it."

"_S'il vous plaît(_Please), call me Arno."

I stare at him with indifferent eyes, but a smirk curls at the corner of my lips. "Dorian," I repeat, earning a slight pout from the assassin. "Let us enjoy this moment while it still remains calm."

With that, I lean back on my spot and place my hands behind my head. I prepare for the mental abuse I am going to receive from my fellow brothers as soon as we arrive at the bureau, but none of that matters at this moment in time. For now, everything is going to be peaceful.

X

Like the majority of the churches in Paris, the _Paroisse Saint-Eustache _was desecrated, looted, and used as a barn for a short time until our mentor, Alphonse d'Aramitz, resurrected it as our bureau. The surrounding area continued on unknowingly as the secret order found sanctuary within its walls while the Gothic structure remained a symbol of greed to the public.

Zacharie snickers as I beg Arno to place me on the ground so I could have at least a little bit of dignity left, but the dark-cloaked assassin refuses. With graceful strides, he carries me to the front door and knocks five times without faltering in strength. Although the recruit appears much thinner than my fellow comrades, I could only imagine the muscles he hides underneath the layers of clothing in order to do all of this with little to no effort.

A boy, no older than eight, props open the door slightly to take a gander at our beaten forms before expanding the entrance just a little more to allow us access. Zacharie is the only one to thank him as we pass through the long corridor of a stable setup and into the former chancel of the building. This side of the church goes untouched by the livestock, but instead holds the Brotherhood's many books and weaponry that we use on our enemies. There are makeshift _chambres _separated by planks of wood and cloth behind the altar for those who seek a place to rest, but unfortunately, we are forced to wait.

"Nicole! Zacharie!" a voice calls as Arno lies me gently onto a pew. Zach smiles nervously at the approaching man as he sits next to me on the bench before eyeing the ground.

Although Arno is nearly a foot taller than I, Alphonse d'Aramitz has him beat by a few more inches. I don't look at the bureau leader because I know how he looks when an assignment goes sour. His beady brown eyes shrink underneath is thick eyebrows while his permanent frown that is etched into his lips becomes even more prominent under his burley beard. His thick arms will be crossed over his chest and his crooked nose will make his nostrils appear larger as they flare from anger.

"What happened out there?" he questions. He already knows the answer, but he knew this was a mental torture for the two of us.

"It was not their fault, sir. The-" Arno starts but is cut off as Alphonse raises his hand to signal him to stop.

"This mission was their responsibility; therefore, they will take the blame. You are dismissed."

The recruit looks as if he wants to retort, but he bites his bottom lip instead and backs off before bowing at the bureau leader. He glances at the two of us with woeful eyes before slowly exiting to the stables. As soon as he is gone, Alphonse's attention is back on us with a huff of breath.

"I'll ask again: what happened?" he inquires once more, but this time with a sharper tone.

"I was the first inside," I explain with hesitance. "Tristan knew we needed only one in the _palais_(palace) to succeed, but with no control over the crowd, the situation was lost, and I was forced to retreat."

"And that's when you broke your leg?" he asks. I nod in reply, but I never look at him. "And what went wrong with your stunt, Zacharie?"

The man next to me flinches while his fingers play with a loose string he ripped from the seam of his robes. "The citizens raided the building before we had time to fully investigate the Marquis. They opened fire on us, thinking that we were involved with the clergy, which compelled us to run. I was the only one injured in the cross-fire."

The two of us wait in agonizing silence as we feel Alphonse's beady eyes burn a hole in our skulls. What punishment was he thinking about giving us this time?

I am certain that Zach had the same chill flow down his spine as we hear our mentor sigh before sitting on a barrel next to the pew. "You can coax the horse, but you can not control it," he mutters.

My comrade and I glance at one another before actually turning our attention to our leader. "Pardon?" I ask.

"The people screwed this up for us, not you two," he replies as he reaches for his wooden pipe that was propped on a wine barrel. "Tristan and Oliver already gave their reports and are resting for the next assignment. As for the both of ya…well, it seems like I'm going to have to ground you until you are ready to fight again."

"But that could take weeks!" I sputter.

"And not taking the time to recover will make it last longer," he retorts. "Effective immediately, you two are to stay in the church at all times unless given permission otherwise. Am I understood?"

My blood boils at the thought of being stuck in this musty place while I am forced to let my leg heal slowly. With no other choice and my jaw clenched, I mutter a 'yes, sir' before limping away to my own, private _chambre _and let the day's troubles fade with my consciousness.


	4. Birthday Wishes

**Hey guys, sorry that this chapter was late to be published. I've been busy with work and I was hoping that Ubisoft would put up another AC:U video sometime during the writing process, but alas, they have not.**

**Anyway, I have been doing more research on the French Revolution and some of Paris's most famous landmarks; which means I have a few ideas for some new chapters, but I first need to fill in the details about how our protagonist gets there.**

**In other news, I'm deciding to pick up live streaming since my PS4 has a nice little share button where the select used to be which will allow me to air Unity on the day of release. If any of you may be interested in that, links to my account info is in my profile description. **

**And to the last thing in the news, Matt Ryan, Edward Kenway's voice actor, is going to play John Constantine in the upcoming NBC show, Constantine. I'm really happy he is finally getting a major role and I believe the show airs sometime in late October around the release of AC:U. **

**And to conclude my rant: Enjoy.**

Chapter 4: Birthday Wishes

Although the air grew crisp with the nearing winter chill, I still find comfort under one of the flying buttresses of the _Paroisse Sainte-Eustache. _Only a week had passed since our little slip up at the _Place d'Armes, _and I was already going mad at the lack of activities I could do inside the bureau that had become my prison. Alphonse made sure both Oliver and Tristan were productive without Zacharie and I; giving them easier assignments to pass the time until the two of us were healed, but we all knew better.

The streets were always calm this time of the year. The poor were forced to seek shelter, and with the depleting rations all across France, most had to preserve their energy if they wanted to survive. With little chance of storming a _palais _on our own, the assassins are forced to wait until the opportunities arise again.

I hear the familiar scrape of wood on stone causing my ears to twitch at the sound. My fellow injured friend was never really good at maintaining complete silence during stealth, at least, not to a trained individual. With a smile on my lips, I glance up at the buttress to stare into the brown eyes of my comrade.

"And to what honor do I owe for you to grace me with your presence?" I joke as the assassin reluctantly used his one good arm to clamber down the structure. He lands with a harsh thud next to me before joining at my side to sit and watch the night life of Paris.

His smile is light and barely noticeable even without his usual brown hood as he reaches into the inner pockets of his blue waistcoat. To my shock, he produces a dark leather-bound book and a thin, off-white cloth that was rolled up and held in place by twine. "Happy birthday," he congratulates as I hesitantly take the gift in my hands.

With a loss of words, I mutter a thank you and examine the contents in my possession. The layers of parchment in the book were blank of any marks while the cloth held thin-carved pieces of charcoal. How did he know?

"We noticed that you finished your last book some time ago, so we thought we would surprise you for your birthday," Zacharie explains while scratching the back of his neck.

"It's wonderful. Thank you," I reply; still in shock. We never really get to celebrate with one another as much as we like to; especially in our line of work , but the small things count. "You guys did this because I'm temporarily crippled, didn't you?"

He chuckles and holds both his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "If there is a subtle hint here, it did not occur to me."

I smile before placing the items on my lap. "Well, thank you anyway. I didn't think you guys would remember."

His lips form into a playful pout. "It's cruel to think of us as incapable of remembering your special day."

"Since we are on the topic of you three, where did Alphonse send Oliver and Tristan today?"

Zach sighs as he relaxes against the cool, stone wall. "Apparently they get to investigate that brothel without us. I was really hoping I would be well enough to join them."

"You need to start getting laid more if you think you are going to get lucky at a brothel while on an assignment," I joke which causes him to pout once again.

"You never know. I could be offered a free room one day for putting an end to an abusive owner," he remarks causing me to laugh.

"And then we would be forced to treat you with quicksilver to get rid of whatever disease you get."

"…Not all of them….have diseases," he mutters making me laugh harder. "At least I'm not a virgin."

I fake a hurtful stare, but my smile gives it away. "And what if I'm saving myself for the right person?"

He scoffs while nudging my shoulder lightly with his elbow. "We both know you don't plan on ever getting married."

"I know, but…I don't know…It's complicated!"

"No it's not!….Wait…have you had the 'talk' yet?" I reel back my fist and release all my strength onto Zacharie's good arm. His eyes flinch as he clenches his jaw and moves his hand to cover the forming bruise. "Has anyone every told you that you punch like a guy?"

"More so than you, and yes…I've had the 'talk'…." I mutter while crossing my arms over my chest while sulking.

He just laughs at me before nudging my shoulder once again. "Come on, let's get back inside before Alphonse finds out. I'm sure he is not going to like the idea of you finding a loophole to his orders."

A heavy sigh escapes my lips before I frown. Inside the church meant chores, musty air and boredom. Why couldn't our mentor allow me one day of peace on the streets of Paris? It wasn't like I was going to cause mayhem; my leg would not allow that.

"You coming?" my comrade asks whom was already up on his feet and standing over the ledge of the building.

"Yeah, go on without me. I'll be down there in a moment," I reply. I can tell he is reluctant, but he nods anyway before leaping off the edge. I know it is too much to ask for, but I only want a few more moments of serenity.

Shaking my head, I let the problems that lay inside be scrambled away for another time before pushing myself off the tile of the roof and into the hay wagon waiting below.

X

Normally when I hear the pitter-patter of feet followed by the sound of dull metal on hay dummies, I automatically assume it's one of my comrades training in the foyer. However, the light steps and rustle of cloth did not identify with any familiar resonance I've heard before. Curious, I grab my makeshift crutch made from old wine barrel parts and delicately make my way pass the altar and into the chancel.

Upon seeing the source of the mysterious sound, I nearly forget how to breathe. Circling the three hay dummies in the middle of the foyer was a tall, thin figure; however, his cloak and waistcoat were missing from his torso, leaving him only in his trousers and gaiters. He stands upright with his back straight, his cutlass in his right hand, and his left arm behind his back as he dances like a feather around the mannequins. With elegance, he slices the torso of the figures with an upward, fluid motion while never once falling out of step.

Just like a fencer…

I was almost in a trance on how graceful he appears as he attempts the same gesture but with a different approach. After watching Tristan, Oliver, and Zacharie fight for so long, I forget that others, like myself, choose a different style than just using strength to take down our enemies.

I don't even realize that the man had stopped until his honey-colored eyes fixate on my blue ones, locking me in place. His dark-brown bangs are matted to his forehead from the sweat, and I'm sure the tip of his hair is doing the same on the back of his neck. His lips twitch upward on his unshaven face as he extends his arms outwards and bows lightly.

"Good evening, _madame,_" he welcomes before glancing down at his shirtless form. "_Excuse-moi. _Normally I would never be this underdressed."

"Dorian?" I ask out of shock.

His smile turns into a smirk. "You seem surprised."

I shake my head and divert my eyes to anything but him. "Forgive me, I thought you would be out on an assignment like the others."

"I would have been, but it seems the citizens were quicker to my target than I, and because of this circumstance, Alphonse allowed for the day off."

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from cursing. Our mentor would allow Arno a day of freedom, but kept Zacharie and I prisoners until we were healed. It was a bit unfair.

"Have you always known how to fight like that?" I question in order to change the topic. My eyes avert back to his as I make myself comfortable on a nearby pew.

"Not always," he replies as he twirls his cutlass in his hand. "My skills were very unrefined until I joined the assassins."

I nod. "I've never met anyone in the Brotherhood who has chosen the combat you use. It's…elegant…."

Another smirk ghosts across his lips. "_Merci beaucoup, madame(_Thank you very much, madam)."

"However, it could use some touching up," I interject causing his smile to falter. "You are light on your feet and able to move fast, but what if you are in a situation that requires you to fight an opponent using brute force? Not every opponent will be easy. There will be times when you are trapped with no room to move and if you are under-prepared to fight with pure strength and strategy, then you will die."

"Have you ever been in such a situation?" he asks as if testing me.

With a look of indifference, I move the collar of my shirt to expose the skin on my left shoulder. A hideous ridged scar that formed at the edge of my collar bone arced its way over my shoulder and ended half way down my back. "Yes," I reply as my eyes never left his face. He presses his lips into a thin line while his cat-like eyes widen at the sight of the scar. "I'm lucky to have kept my arm."

His eyes find mine again and he seems to struggle when speaking. "And whom may I ask to train me in such a manner?"

"Tristan is your best bet. Him or Alphonse, but the latter is normally busy," I reply.

"You learned to fight from Tristan?"

I nod. "He is tough on you, but you will never regret the training."

"And what of Oliver or Zacharie? Do they use the same style of combat?"

I shake my head. "Oliver is like you in a way: quick and prefers movement, but he also never attacks headstrong. If you ever need pistol or rifle practice, I would suggest him. Zacharie, on the other hand, his weapon of choice is normally a spear or mace; which generally drives him to run headlong into folly."

"And what about you?"

My eyes travel to my hurt leg that was currently propped up on a barrel. "I'm the…I guess you could say stealthy one, but I do know how to hold my own in a fight."

He nods as if he understands; I wonder if he really does. "So," he starts as he moves toward the pew in front of me and makes himself comfortable while not once taking his eyes off my face. "How have you stayed busy in the past couple of days?"

Well that was certainly a change of topic. "I…uh… just kept to chores I guess. Not much else to do around here…"

"Alphonse still will not let you leave for fresh air?"

I nod as I avert my eyes to the training dummies in the room. "This is a passive-aggressive punishment for the failed assignment in Versailles. I can only assume that he will let Zacharie and I free as soon as next week….At least he is allowing me rest for once."

"Why not sneak out for a bit while he is busy?"

I nearly choke on the air I am breathing as soon as the thought enters my mind. "You want me to disobey orders from the man whose size alone could crush my head like a grape?"

Arno shrugs. "You are an assassin, _non_? You sacrifice your life so that all can be free, and yet here you are, caging yourself under orders."

"It's more complicated than that-"

"Why is it? Because you've spent your entire life behind a some form of bars and all you know is what people tell you to do?"

Okay, perhaps he knew the situation a little too well. "Even if I didn't have the orders, where would I go? What would I do? As you can see I'm a bit crippled at the moment."

A smirk plays at the corners of the man's lips. "Let me get dressed and I'll show you."

X

To my amazement, Arno had managed to sneak the two of us plus a horse out of the bureau while everyone inside slept soundly. We only traveled a few blocks down the road until we came across the familiar sight of _Rue de _

_Rivoli _where the beautiful sight of the Tuileries Gardens could be seen from the hillside.

"Are we about to do something stupid and crazy?" I ask as my companion slides from the saddle before helping me to the ground. He quickly ties the horse's reins to a post in front of a shop and lifts me from my feet with ease.

"Only if you consider it to be that way," he remarks as we approach the surrounding perimeter of the garden.

Unlike the_ Place d'Armes, _the Tuileries Garden does not have a blockade between the street and the greenery; however, since the march in Versailles, surveillance of the royal family living inside the _palais _had increased. Not even the King could leave the comfort of his home without having a small army surrounding his location.

Even with me in his arms, Arno is light on his feet as we pass the threshold into the garden and lay low in the shrubbery. The guards seem none the wiser about our entry onto the perimeter and continue on with their business as we continue deeper into the restricted area until I could make out the _Bassin Octogonal. _Arno's muscles tense causing his hold to tighten around my small form before he dives behind the hedges outlining the man-made pond. Gently, the assassin sets me on the ground before examining our surroundings carefully. After five or so minutes of him double checking, he sits at my side and we both sit in silence as we observe the beauty of the garden.

I didn't think I would ever get to enjoy the ability to sight see this _jardin_ in my life. With all the wonderful places I've visited since I've joined the assassins, I never had the opportunity to take in my surroundings like I was doing now. It was probably the best feeling in the world.

"Are you glad I talked you into it?" Arno asks as he nudges me with his elbow.

"Yeah," I reply with a smile on my lips. "It's beautiful."

I feel him shift uncomfortably by my side as his fists clench every now and then. "Happy birthday," he finally congratulates causing my attention to turn towards him.

"How did you know?" I question making him smile.

"I overheard the others discussing what to get you a few days ago. After that, I just had to figure out when they planned on giving you your gift."

"Why did you decide to do this if we hardly know each other?"

He shrugs. "I'm sure being stuck in the same place for more than a few days would drive anyone mad by now. And it's your birthday…you deserve the fresh air."

I return the smile. "Well…thank you. This really does mean a lot."

"_Je vous en prie(_You're welcome)," he replies while his gaze turns back to the pond.

Although I hardly know the man, I feel like Arno is going to be a nice addition to our misfit family.


	5. Freedom

**Over the past week, I've learned something new: I can absolutely not work on anything while my boyfriend is home. I can not even begin to count how many times I started working on this chapter or some animations before he would pop in and ask me to do something. As much as I love him, he really is hard to live with.**

**Anyway, I really have to thank you guys once again for the reviews and kind words of encouragement. Life has been getting easier and my mind is no longer the chaotic mess it used to be; which I'm grateful for. **

**Now for Q&A time:**

**Q: Have you written any books?**

**A: Nope, but I have one on paper I really should work on.**

**Q: Is Alphonse, Tristan, Zacharie and Oliver the names of the co-op assassins or did you make those up?**

**A: I made them up. Ubisoft announced that the three other characters in the E3 trailers were your own customizable assassin and so I decided to give them their own personalities since co-op will be a big update to the AC series. **

**Well, those were the only questions to pop up in my inbox, but if any of you have one that you want answered, do not be afraid to ask. **

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 5: Freedom

It is always harder getting back in shape than it is maintaining it. Unlike myself, Zacharie had made a full recovery nearly a month before I and he was already back in the field while I was forced to wait alone in the church. As soon as I was able to stand on my own again, I pleaded with Alphonse to give me an assignment, but all efforts were in vain. According to him, I should be resting more and let my leg finish healing, but it feels fine. Could he not see that?

Although we hardly ever spend time together, Arno's personality was beginning to rub off on me. He has this bad habit of disobeying certain commands and usually does his own thing; which gets him in trouble often, but it still gets the job done. Unlike my new comrade; however, I do not disobey direct orders, but instead, I find myself slowly branching out of my comfort zone to at least train without my mentor noticing.

After a long day of bodybuilding, I inevitably find a comfortable spot under a flying buttress along the outer walls of the church and listen to the squabble from the lingering peasants below. Rumors on the streets were the only thing keeping me sane and connected to the outside world; however, only the homeless are out on this chilly December day, but usually they have more to say than those more privileged.

"I hear that they plan on taking back the countryside and burning every last estate to the ground," a blonde woman gossips to her brunette friend as they huddle near a fire built on the outline of the _Jardin des Halles. _

"So it's actually happening again? I thought that was a threat that the faction leaders were sending to the clergy," the brunette remarks while rubbing her pale hands together to stay warm.

The blonde shakes her head. "It will be just like it was all those years ago. The people will burn everything including the crops and we will continue to starve."

"And taxes will also increase."

"This 'Great Fear' or whatever the rich are calling it will only kill us faster."

I was done listening as soon as the topic hit my ears. There was no hope left in Paris for the poor and it was either move on or die in the streets. However, their idea of 'moving on' only sent them into the fields of the countryside where they began to repeat the events that happened all those years ago. The blood of the innocents were being spilled on both sides of the class system and every new day drew worse conditions for everyone.

Pulling myself to my feet, I instantly catch the incisions in the church's architecture and clamber down the side of the building. No one notices my decent in the nearly empty streets as my toes hit the ground and I quietly sneak back through the front door of the bureau. Alphonse had departed some time ago without a word, leaving the place to myself while the other assassins were off on assignments.

Normally, I would not mind having the bureau to myself. It is a cozy, little den with a view of a garden and the surrounding area never became too busy with noise. However, after months of pure boredom and the inability to leave the compound, I want nothing more than to tear the walls down.

Maybe one small trip to the market would do me some good…

I slap myself to rid of the thought. Alphonse gave the order to stay inside, but the idea of roaming the streets of Paris once again would not leave my inner conscious. What harm could I do? It would be a short walk around the block and then I would be back before Alphonse even returned. What is the worse that could happen? Deciding that the notion would be more beneficial to my sanity, I quickly pull on my boots and strap on my hidden blade before exiting the church.

It almost feels surreal to be out on the streets, especially without my cloak. For so long, I used my assassin robes as a form of security from the outside world, but for some reason, it feels like the burden hanging on my shoulders is lifted without it. Maybe I needed to do things like this more often.

For the most part, everything is quiet. Beggars stay close to the buildings for warmth while shop owners sit comfortably inside their buildings. The only noise I catch is the crunch of snow beneath my feet and the distant cries of infants. It is hard as an assassin to saunter pass these people without being able to aid them, but my job is to take care of the oppressors; other than that, there was not much else I could do.

I don't remember walking this far, but as soon as I look up at the surrounding buildings, I can barely make out the two towers of the _Cathédrale Notre-Dame _beyond _La Seine. _A sigh escapes my lips before my shoulders droop at the thought of having to turn back. Did I really travel this far? It is nearly a half hour's walk here which means I would not return to the church as fast as I had assumed. I know my mind was jumbled at the moment, but was it really this bad?

Sighing once more, I turn on my heel to return to the bureau, but I am stopped by a voice I never thought I would hear again. Standing under the protection of the _Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie's _tower, an abnormally thin man rises above the growing crowd with a stack of papers in one hand as he shouts above the voices of the people. Drawn by curiosity of what this man had to say, I follow the citizens until I am also in the shadow of the _Tour_ _Saint-Jacques _while elbows and other body parts dig into my sides in order to get a better view of the patron standing on a stack of crates.

"Do you actually believe the monarchs or clergy care about any of us? With bellies full, they would have the people of France starve to death as long they can continue to delve into their enriching lives. They should all burn for their crimes!" the speaker preaches causing the majority of the crowd to cheer.

Jean-Paul Marat had to be the most self-centered, egotistical pieces of shit I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. Unlike myself; however, the Brotherhood was almost ready to accept him with open arms, but upon reviewing his behavior, they found his ways too 'extreme' for the Order. He used to be a well honored doctor and scientist before finding an interest in politics, but upon getting wrapped up in the chaos, his reputation faltered. Now he stands before me and the citizens of France as a journalist with a habit of going into hiding after nearly every new publication due to issues with the police.

"They can no longer oppress us! Not the noblemen! Not even the church! Let their heads roll!" Marat shouts earning more cheers.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I glance around at the crowd. These people were a dry tinderbox ready to catch fire with the first spark that comes into contact. How do you stop a mob that was ready to burst? With quick thinking, I maneuver through the people before leaping on top of the crates and standing next to Marat. What was I getting myself into?

The crowd falls into silence out of shock of my behavior, allowing me to speak. "Citizens of France," I start while stretching my hands out in a welcoming gesture. "We mustn't act out of violence for an unjustified cause. It is true that the clergy and noblemen sit comfortably in their homes with their fine meals and beds, but we shall not forget that they deserve the same fair trial that we wish upon ourselves. If we stand alone, we have no hope of surviving, but together, we are unstoppable. If this truly is a revolution, then let it be known as one with justice and mercy."

"And then what? Let the oppressors continue to rule us with tyranny?" Marat interjects, but I merely glare at him.

"We are the backbone of this nation. Without us, the rich will surely crumble, so let them eat their cake and enjoy their wine for now, because it will not be long until the food will turn to ash in their mouths," I retort.

The same people who were cheering for death only a few minutes ago were now applauding at my speech. Those who brought weapons and farm equipment to the _parc_(park) immediately sheath them away while their demeanors seem to quell. Did I just stop a riot from occurring?

As I turn back to Marat, I notice the look of approval upon his features as he studies me. "I have to give you credit, that was a fine speech." He reaches out a hand while a crooked smile etches across his lips. "Jean-Paul Marat."

"Not interested," I retort before jumping off the crates and making my way out of the crowd. I hear the man scramble to follow, but I keep two steps ahead while making my way back to the bureau. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the crowd disperse letting a sigh of relief escape my lips; however, I am still not in the clear.

The imbecile continues to stray several feet behind me, but no matter how much faster I push myself, the idiot stays in step. Growing irritated, I slow the pace of my walk until he is right behind me before I turn to grab him by the scruff of his collar and press him against a nearby building. He gasps loudly in shock as I release my hidden blade centimeters from his neck while glaring into his brown eyes.

"Quit following me or I will end your life where you stand," I threaten causing him to squeak in reply. He is twitchy while his hands move towards my gauntlet, but he is too terrified to even touch the leather.

"I just wish to speak," he stutters.

"And I told you I was not interested," I retort.

"Please," he begs, almost like a child. "I meant no harm."

Growling in between my teeth, I pull him from the wall and use his weight to throw him into the middle of the street. He topples left and right before finally tripping over his own two feet into the mud and grime on the cobblestone. Some passersby give the two of us a quick glance before moving on to another section of the road. The one rule of Paris during this revolution: do not linger where there is trouble.

"Speak quickly," I command as he tries to stand on shaky legs. It's like watching a fawn try to stand on an icy lake.

"You are a natural speaker," he states as our eyes meet. "I was wondering if you wanted to work together to have the people's voices heard from all over France."

I let out a laugh while a smirk curls at the corner of my lips. "I want nothing to do with you or your arrogant publications," I remark as I inch closer to his trembling form. The man looks ready to shrink back into whatever hole he crawled out of as I stop a few feet away from his stench-covered body. "Now go away."

As I move away to head back towards the bureau, I see him try to approach me once more, but before I could turn to attack him, a large hand is placed on the man's shoulder causing every vein in my body to freeze over. My eyes lock with Alphonse's brown ones before he changes his gaze to address the journalist.

"Pursuing her is not the best idea. I suggest you leave," my mentor announces before moving towards me.

He only gives me a look of disapproval, but says nothing as he passes by my small form. Knowing that it would be best to follow him, I quickly catch up and mimic his stride until we are back at the church we call home. He still says nothing as we both enter the building and sit in the chancel in complete silence. Did he plan on torturing me like this all night?

"Why did you disobey my orders?" he finally questions after minutes of torment. There was no hint of anger, nor did he ever raise his voice. It scares me more than if he showed his true emotions.

I'm at such a loss for words that my hands fidget on my lap. "I don't know," I stutter. "I just couldn't take staying here any longer that I decided to go out for some fresh air."

I'm sure he is burning a hole through my skull, but I'm too afraid to gaze up at him.

"I'm glad you did it," he remarks causing me to nearly choke on the air that I breath. "Had you not, there would have been a riot not even we could quell."

I am confused. He is glad that I disobeyed his commands? Even with a job well done there has to be some form of punishment waiting for me…right?

"You're not mad?" I ask with bewilderment.

He merely shakes his head and smiles. "I've been waiting for the day that you would finally step up and be your own person not set by the standards given to you." He pauses as he fills his pipe before lighting the powder inside. "And someone needs to shut that rat's mouth from time to time before he persuades the citizens to burn all of France to the ground."

"What is he doing back in Paris?" I ask as the muscles in my shoulders and back finally relax from the tension. "I thought he was in hiding in the countryside."

Alphonse shakes his head. "As long as there is chaos, that worm will be here to make sure there is terror for everyone to spread."

"Why not shut him up for good if his publications and speeches are causing so much trouble?"

"Because we will need his voice one day," my mentor replies before standing. "Come with me. If we are to put you back in the field, then I will need to tutor you in your new assignments."

I was finally going back into the field? I try to suppress my grin, but I'm sure the skip in my step gave away my excitement. As we enter Alphonse's office, I notice the four chess pieces on the table-size map of Paris that was strewn across two wooden chests. Each piece was painted a certain color to symbolize each of us in the bureau, but mine; however, was placed off to the side.

"Upon reviewing how well Arno has adjusted to Paris, I want him to stay with Tristan, Zacharie and Oliver," my mentor announces making my blood run cold.

"Are you dropping me from the team?" I question in fright.

He shakes his head, but I'm still suspicious of his next act. "You will still be doing assignments with your fellow brothers, but your objective will be different than theirs."

"What do you mean?"

Alphonse picks up a single parchment from a desk cluttered with many others before handing it over. I quickly scan over the contents only catching key words that sum up the page. "You want me to sneak around for information while the boys distract and kill our target?"

"That's the gist of it," he replies while taking a long drag of his pipe. "The revolution is becoming more bloody by the day and only four of you is not enough to get what we need. I am coming to you first about this because you are the stealthiest of the group."

"Will they know about this as well?" I ask as I place the parchment back on the desk.

"Not if you decide to take on the responsibility."

Although the assignment would leave me out of the fights, there is a small detail that still bothers me. "Then how do you plan on explaining my disappearance to them?"

Out of all the gestures he could of done, he merely shrugs. "I'll think of something."

Sighing, I reluctantly nod before turning my full attention to Alphonse. "So when do I start?"

"Tomorrow."


	6. Power to the People

**Happy Bastille Day!**

**For those of you who do not know what this day means, then look up the cinematic trailer for AC:U and just watch it. It explains everything, except for the fact that there were only seven prisoners inside and the people only stormed it for the gunpowder and weapons. **

**Anyway….to the news update:**

**1) Arno is now a searchable character on here so tell everyone you know, including the authors who have a story already made. **

**2) I am currently building a 1:1 scale of the Notre Dame in Minecraft and if any of you want to watch the progress, the server I am in is listed in my profile. ZoraBlaise is my name on there. **

**That's all I really have to say. Remember, I answer any questions you may have so please do not be afraid to ask. Also, if you want the story to improve in any way, such as details or character development, please leave a review and tell me how to do so. I take constructive criticism well.**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 6: Power to the People

When Alphonse said that we were going to approach the assignment differently, I only assumed he meant that we were going to break into the _palais _through the sewers or from the rooftops. This; however, was my high hopes getting away from the reality of my mentor's sick and twisted mind.

Instead, I was somehow forced into the uncomfortable fabric of a low-necked, blue _robe(_dress) with the skirt open to reveal the petticoat underneath. I honestly don't know what is worse: the cloth choking my neck or the silk brocade heels that make walking impossible. At first, Alphonse wanted to put my hair into a wig, but after much debate, I was able to let loose my braid and place a straw hat on my head.

Formal, but not too flashy. Either way, I hate it.

Oliver is to be my companion escort when we enter the Tuileries Palace as part of a visiting noble family from the countryside of Varennes. We are going to be among many others who are to be there for an assembly to discuss what could be done to fix France's growing problems. As if the rich were ever going to do just that; even the poor outside knew there would be food and entertainment despite the prison that the estate had become.

Unlike myself, Oliver seems natural in his temporary costume. A white-waistcoat is tucked away under a forest-green coat with black breeches hiding behind white stockings. His normally brown boots were replaced with low-heeled, black shoes that were fastened with a silver buckle while a white cravat is tied loosely around his neck. Alphonse had managed to get a wig on him, but it was tossed the moment we were out of sight from our mentor.

My palms are sweaty as the two of us near the entrance to the palace. I'm glad that our arms are linked for the charade or else I would have fallen on my face due to these stupid heels. Oliver shows no sign of discomfort as he talks to the guards and flashes the invites we are 'borrowing' from a nice, noble couple. The patrol nods, and just like that, we are inside the most guarded building in all of Paris. It almost seems too easy.

"You are tense," my comrade states as he returns several smiles to a few of the ladies.

"Social events are not exactly my thing," I reply.

I hear him chuckle while I hide my face behind a frilled-fan to disguise my embarrassment. "Neither is dressing like a lady, but you do look stunning tonight."

My cheeks feel like they are on fire. "_Tais-toi(_Shut up) and stay focused."

The hallways feel constricting while the eyes of the clergy smother my thin form. Neither Oliver or I blend in here. These people are pudgy with wealth and hold an aura of self-righteousness about them; something the both of us lacked. My comrade pays no mind to the prying stares and continues on down the corridor until we reach the temporary Assembly Hall.

Oliver is the first to break away, but his hand slides down my arm before grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips. Women are not allowed inside during the meetings, so I am forced to linger and socialize while the men argue their ideals behind closed doors. Hazel eyes lock onto my own as we both formally bow in understanding. We knew our assignment, but the trick was not breaking the charade we had created.

My heart beats wildly as I watch Oliver disappear. I was never very good at social graces, but sometimes I have to suck up my insecurities for the Brotherhood's insane requests. With calculated strides, I manage to make my way down the corridor with enough dignity before finally sneaking away from the commotion of the nobles.

Although the rest of the palace is well lit for the guests wandering the halls, the place feels barren of any life. The other women of the estate do not like to travel very far from their groups; which allows me to move freely throughout the building. Even the guards did not bother securing these corridors due to the attention needed near the Assembly; which makes this whole situation seem even more suspicious.

I enter the nearest chamber and immediately close the door behind me. Like everywhere else, the ball room is empty of activity, so I march over to the velvet drapes and move them out of the way before unlocking the large window. I do this to the rest of the _fenêtres(_windows) and leave the room as soon as I make sure the coast is clear. I'm only half-way done with my job, but now came the tricky part.

I don't get far from the ball room when I feel a gloved hand on my shoulder causing me to turn and clench my fists out of habit, but I am forced to stop as I face the guard in front of me. "You gave me a fright," I gasp in exaggeration. I want to slap myself for the over acting, but he doesn't seem to question it.

"You shouldn't be wandering the corridors alone, _madame," _the guard states as he bows respectively.

"Oh…uh, _je suis désolé(_I am sorry). I was not feeling like myself and I thought some alone time would clear my head of such worries," I reply with the most innocent voice I could muster. How did the other women make this look so easy?

"I am sure all is fine, _madame. _Would you like an escort back to the dining room? The others must be asking about your disappearance."

_Merde(_shit).

"Oh, no, I will be fine-"

"I insist."

He places his palm on the small of my back, and just as I was about to reach back and knock him unconscious, the familiar sound of metal does it for me. Tristan's form towers over mine as he retracts his hidden blade before picking up the limp body from the ground and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Was that really necessary?" I ask as my friend tosses the guard into the nearest room.

"He was about to ruin the plan….and no one touches our little sister without at least getting a hand cut off," he retorts with a smirk.

I smile in return. "And here I thought I didn't have suitors because I was undesirable."

"Is Oliver in the assembly?" Tristan questions as he does a sweep of our surrounding corridors.

I nod. "He was among the first to enter. It's always surreal to believe he can speak so elegantly despite his quietness."

My comrade shrugs. "The smart ones are usually silent. Do you know what that says about you?"

I glare at him, but his smile only grows. "Where is Arno and Zacharie?"

"Zacharie is making an exit route for us while Arno and I are splitting up and meeting at the target."

"Then why are you still standing here?" I question with an arced brow.

He grabs my cheek between his index finger and thumb and shows off a toothy grin. "It's just cute that you are finally dolled up for once. I have to cherish this moment." I immediately slap his hand away causing him to laugh. "Be safe. I know it must be dreadful running in those shoes."

Before I could retort to his childish behavior, he is already down the hall and out of sight. I have plans to get back at him later, but for now, I have to focus on the assignment. Despite the winding corridors, the path to the King and Queen's _chambre _is fairly easy to find seeing as how the patrol becomes denser the closer I arrive. Getting inside will not be an easy task, and there is no absolute plan that will guarantee success. What could I do?

Taking in a deep breath of air, I decide to take a leap of faith before marching forward towards the guards in front of the room. Just as I suspected, they instantly raise their bayonets and order for me to stop; which I happily obliged knowing that it wouldn't put a bullet in my skull.

"My name is Eva Lécuyer from the city of Varennes, and I have news for the Queen," I lie as I curtsey. "Her brother, Leopold II, has asked that I deliver it."

Both of the guards glance at one another, but they do not lower their weapons. "Her Majesty does not receive any letters from her family. What are you really doing here?"

I've only tried one thing and I'm already out of ideas. There would be no way of knocking these two unconscious especially in this dress and the patrol constantly circling the corridors would definitely be a problem. As I am compelled to leave and find another route into the _chambre, _the three of us hear the door open on squeaky hinges barely enough to see a blue eye of the person inside.

"She has permission to enter," a woman's voice whispers loud enough for the guard's to hear, but they appear dumbstruck.

"But Your Maj-" one of the men starts, but is cut off when the door flies open to reveal the person on the other side.

In the past three months, Marie Antoinette thinned in form to an almost unrecognizable figure. It is my turn to look at her in shock as I notice her blonde hair growing grey while her once young features hold wrinkles of worry and frustration. I did not know this revolution was taking such a toll on the royal family.

"Let. Her. In!" the Queen hisses causing the guards to shutter. In their hesitance, I quickly slip by them and enter the room before Marie slams the door shut. As soon as we are alone, she rushes toward me and grabs my hands while searching my eyes for answers. "How is my brother? My family? Do speak quickly."

The resentment I held for this woman and her husband for so many years dwindle at the sight of desperation on her face. "Your family fairs well. Even with the tensions between France and Austria, your brother is attempting a diplomatic solution before becoming… 'aggressive' with his actions."

Her hands loosen and drop away from my own before bringing them to her face. She sighs heavily into her palms and quickly removes them to show her watery eyes. "He has sense for once."

"_Madame?" _I ask out of confusion.

"If my brother continues his fool's errand of claiming French lands, especially with the situation we are in, then it will be my family's heads for payment, and no one shall take my children from me! Not even God!"

I wonder if my mother used to speak like this. She had died shortly after my birth due to complications, but my father would tell me that even when she was sick during pregnancy, she would be tough for the two of us. With her husband's life in peril and her children in the line of fire, this woman is probably ready to take on all of France to protect them.

"Bear up, _madame. _Let us pray that the tragedies end quickly," I comfort with a fake smile. Even if I pitied her, she is still at fault for Frances's desperation, and I must never forget that.

"Do you believe the rumors?" she asks which catches me off guard.

"What rumors, Your Majesty?" I question with feigned ignorance.

She seems annoyed as she presses her lips into a thin line. "It is not of importance, but if you happen to hear anything regarding myself in disgusting acts, disregard them. The people will talk, and they will not be merciful about it."

I curtsey as a sign of trust. "As you wish, _madame."_

"I need you to leave now, but before you go." She moves quickly to her night stand and retrieves a sealed envelope resting on the mahogany wood. "This letter is for my brother's eyes only. I am certain a Lady of the Lécuyer house can easily smuggle a parchment across the border."

I nod as I take the letter. "_Oui, _Your Majesty. Consider it done."

"You are dismissed," is all she says as she waves her hand towards the exit.

I do not think twice as I open the door, step outside and quickly shut it behind me. The guards look ready to stop and interrogate me, but I give them no time to do so as I move as fast as these shoes will let me. So it was true that the Queen was sending letters to her brother, but what was stored inside could either be updates on her imprisonment or important information that could aid Austria's conquest across France.

I can see the women up ahead who still wait patiently for their husbands to end the assembly, but I never arrive as I literally come into contact with someone exiting a nearby room.

"Oh, _excuse-moi," _the man blabbers as he fixes his powered wig. "I did not see-" He cuts off his sentence as he finally puts his full attention on me, but seems too shocked to speak. "Nicole Sauveterre?"

How did he know my name?

"_Désolé, _but you may be thinking of the wrong person," I lie and try to move away, but he stands in the middle of my path.

He shakes his head and offers a warm smile. "How could I forget such a face? You look exactly like your mother, but it seems you inherited your father's eyes." He stands there for a minute to examine me before his lips fall into a frown, and his overall demeanor changes dramatically. "How did you escape all those years ago? Everyone presumed you dead."

"_Monsieur, _you have the wrong person," I say once more, but he is persistent.

"You do not need to lie. Is that what you have been doing all these years? Hiding?"

"Sir-" I start but he holds up a hand to stop me.

"_Je m'appelle Maximillien de Robespierre(_My name is…)_," _he injects with that smile still on his lips._ "_I was an associate of your father's."

Robespierre. Now that was a name I am familiar with. He visited my family's _palais _several times, but I never had the pleasure of actually meeting him due to my father's strict rules for me to stay unseen. He was only a law student at the time, but his honey-covered words granted him access into politics very early in his career. The Assassins were supporters of his ideals, but I was not so easily bought.

"And like I said: I am not the person you think I am," I retort before pushing him out of the way and continuing towards the Assembly Hall. I can hear his feet chasing after me, but I pay no mind towards it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"Please, Nicole, I can not imagine the terrible things that may have happened to you in the past, but you are here now. If there is someone here controlling you, 'we' can stop it."

Who is 'we?'

"There you are!"

I don't have the opportunity to turn to my savior as Arno's arm links with my own. I'm confused on why he would approach me while still in his assassin's robes; however, Robespierre does not seem to be shocked by it.

"Victor!" I chime while a smile of relief plays on my lips. "I thought you were too busy tonight to be bothered with me."

He smirks with an almost smug expression. "Business is over, and your husband awaits. It is a long trip back home, so I figured we could talk then." Arno instantly turns to the lawyer and bows respectively. "I'm truly sorry, _Monsieur_, but the _madame _and I must leave immediately. I hope our paths cross again."

With that, Dorian and I leave the stunned politician behind without once looking back.

"_Merci beaucoup(_thank you)_," _I mutter as soon as we were out of hearing range.

"Don't mention it," he replies with the smug smirk still on his face.

X

"So what did we achieve tonight?" Zacharie asks as the four of us approach him under the shelter of a pub's patio.

"Some of the clergymen are now paranoid that someone is after them; which has pushed them to refuse the Templar's offers of coin for power," Tristan retorts while taking a seat next to the blue-cloaked assassin.

Oliver takes the other chair on Zach's opposite side before grabbing a mug. "The seed has been planted in the minds of the assembly. Now to let the idea grow."

Arno and I glance at one another before he too claims a chair at the table. "The rumors of Antoinette sending letters to Austria is true, but what they contain is still a mystery," I interject while still standing.

"You wouldn't have happened to get your hands on one, did you?" Zacharie questions and now all eyes are on me.

"No," I lie effortlessly. It hurt lying to them, but it was Alphonse's orders.

Tristan just shrugs while motioning his hand my direction. "Come on and sit with us. Tonight is a successful night as a new team. Time to celebrate!"

I chuckle but shake my head. "Not in this dress. I'm going home to change." Both Zacharie and Tristan whine while Oliver and Arno drink over their suppressed laughter. "Have fun, boys!"

And with that, I'm on my own in the streets of Paris. None of them care to join me as they would rather be out and drinking than be introverts. I can not help but let my mind linger on the thought of that man knowing my name. How close was he to my father if he was able to recognize me so easily?

My mind fills with questions on the subject matter, but I am no closer to the answers unless I pursue Robespierre; which I fear will be my objective in the close future.


	7. Brothers

**Sorry about the late update.**

**Some recent events sent me back to square one of recovery, so I needed a break from reality for a bit. There really isn't much to say as for updates except that the release date for AC:U is almost three months away and I need to figure out how to pace the story to fit the time I have and the events that occur. **

**Anyway, enjoy. **

Chapter 7: Brothers

July 13, 1790. It has been nearly a year since the fall of the Bastille, and the people only continue to grow stronger; however, I feel as though they are becoming lost. Oliver's honeyed words at Tuileries proved effective and religious beliefs have dwindled amongst the population, which in turn, weakened the church, but now other powers rise to the occasion to take their place. We know the Templars are restless; however, they are also quiet. That is never a good sign.

Voices interrupt my thoughts letting me know that the boys are back from their hunting trip. Once again, I'm left out of the loop as my assignments stray me away from the team we spent years defining. My heart aches at the idea of my brothers no longer needing me. Arno has become such a great addition to the family that I feel almost pushed out of the picture altogether, and with him taking my spot while my missions take me elsewhere, I can not help but feel it more so than usual.

"So how was the countryside?" I ask with a fake smile; it was better that they did not see my loneliness. Tristan returns a grin of his own as he sits next to me on the pew while Zacharie takes the spot on my opposite side.

"As beautiful as it was, I think I prefer my playground here in Paris. The lack of buildings elsewhere makes things too difficult," my blue-cloaked companion replies earning a nod from the rest.

"Any news about our favorite little lawyer, Robespierre?" I question sarcastically, causing a stack of papers to be thrown on my lap in response.

"A gift from the man in question," Oliver states as he sits on a gunpowder barrel across from me.

"To think he had those lying around. Such irresponsibility." Zacharie shakes his head while clicking his tongue in mocking disapproval. "Someone could have stolen them."

I smile. "Thank God you were there to make sure that didn't happen."

"God doesn't exist anymore, remember?"

"Enough you two," Tristan smirks while nudging my shoulder. "Read the names, you might recognize a few of them."

_Beaulieu. _No surprise there._ Guérin. _I thought he fled Paris._ Lévesque. _As stupid as he is rich._ Baudin. _I'mamazed he is still breathing. _Armistead. _That name is new. _Villeneuve. _Eh._ Sauveterre…._

"Sauveterre?" I accidentally question aloud, but it's already too late. Each of them have heard me.

"You know the name?" Arno asks with interest while the rest raise a brow.

I shrug nonchalantly, but I am sure my eyes give away my thoughts. "He used to hand food to the poor. I remember him being….kind…"

It wasn't a lie….

"That list gives the names of Templar associates both alive and dead," Oliver literates.

Templar? My father…?

"That can't be possible…" I start, but I'm cut off by the stares my fellow brothers are giving me. "He was a good man!"

I feel Tristan's large hand grip my shoulder in comfort. "Not all Templars show their true colors so easily. You know this."

"Yeah," I whisper while swatting my comrade's hand away. His idea of soothing was the exact opposite of what I needed. "So what is plan with names that are still living?"

"Once Alphonse clears the situation of each individual, we do as we are ordered," Oliver speaks up. He was unusually talkative today. Can he see through my façade?

Zacharie yawns loudly, breaking the tension in the room. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm tired."

Tristan takes the papers from my lap, stands from the pew and glances between the four of us. "Without Alphonse here, sleep sounds like a dream come true. See you guys in a few hours."

Zacharie follows right after him while Oliver and Arno stay in the chancel with me. My green-cloaked friend examines me silently while Dorian seems oblivious to the pressure sent my direction. How long did he plan on playing this game with me?

"Are you alright, Nicole? You seem tense," Arno states, sensing my discomfort.

"I'm fine," I reply with another fake smile. Out of the corner of my eye I see Oliver frown under his hood. Now I am certain he knows. "I think I shall go out for some fresh air," I say as I stand from the pew. "Doing Alphonse's work all day drains you mentally."

I do not allow anymore words to be exchanged as I grab my cloak and flee the building in a hurried fashion. I can not believe what my eyes had seen. Did my father really associate himself with the Templars? If so, did the Assassins have something to do with his death? Maybe I am over thinking things, but Tristan and I have caused such acts before by using the underprivileged. Perhaps they did the same to my estate all those years ago…

"Is there a reason why you are avoiding your fellow brothers?" a familiar voice catches me off guard causing my vocal cords to give away an embarrassing squeak noise.

"I'm not avoiding anyone, Dorian," I say as I swat at the chuckling man.

"Intentionally leaving the bureau after we get back says otherwise," he inputs causing me to sigh. "Does this have to do with that man?"

I stop walking and stare at the cobblestone road. "I've spent the last eight years studying both the Assassins and Templars. I know what their stance was back when the crusades tormented the people of Israel and know what their ideals are now. I understand things have changed, but Édouard Sauveterre had nothing to do with either organization."

Under his hood, Arno's honey-colored eyes study my own as if searching for a secret. "How would you know this?"

"Cause I'm positive that if he truly was a Templar, he wouldn't have died the way he did."

Dorian's eyes give a light of empathy before extending his elbow out in my direction. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

I arch a brow of out confusion at the sudden change of mood. "Um…"

He suppresses a chuckle and instead locks his arm with mine. "Come on. I'm sure it will do you some good."

I'm skeptical about his behavior, but Arno will not take no for an answer, so I am almost literally being dragged to where ever he plans on taking me. For the first few minutes, we do not speak to one another, making the trip seem that much more awkward. The heat on my cheeks feels like I have a fever, and although I try my hardest to convince him I can walk without his aid, he refuses to let go of my arm.

"I've been meaning to ask: why did you join the assassins?" he asks out of the blue.

I study his features, but he shows no other signs of emotion but curiosity. "I was an orphan looking for ways to survive," I respond with furrowed brows.

"And they just let you in?"

I shake my head. "Not at first. The only reason Tristan picked me up off the streets was because I not only kept up with him, but I had managed to stir the rioters into fighting back for themselves. He told me once that he saw something the Assassin leaders could not."

"Do you know what changed their minds?"

My eyes find the outline of the former location of the Bastille where an altar had been set up using iron chains and restraints to symbolize the power the people had gained on that day. Pierre-François Palloy, an entrepreneur who claimed to have played a major role in storming the Bastille, took control of the demolition of the prison fortress and made sure everyone knew about the sacrifices that were given. My only regret was not being there to see the walls crumble underneath the regime.

"They didn't change their minds. Some people can not accept change whether or not they are in the Assassin or Templar order. Alphonse went against the commands of his fellow leaders and welcomed me anyway. For that, I owe him."

Arno nods as if he understands the circumstances, but I'm not quite sure he does. The men within the order do not realize how easy they have it since they are not judged as harshly when it comes to ranks.

"What drives you to continue?" he asks as we find a bench across the canal from the former Bastille.

I shrug, unsure even to myself. "I want justice more than anything, but it seems like everyone has a secret string they are puppeteering in this revolution. How do you go on knowing that you will never cut every last strand?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the Assassin observing my form. He is stiff and calculating which makes me question if he is holding something back or trying to find a chink in my armor. Did Oliver set him up to this, or was he just as smart?

"Why did you really want to talk to me?" I question, turning to face him.

Arno does not seem fazed by my harsh tone as though he was expecting it. Unlike my green-cloaked comrade, Dorian was an utter mystery to me. I spent little to no time with him, and by taking my spot within the brotherhood, he most likely heard more stories about me than I have about him.

"I can not have the opportunity to spend time with the one person in the order I have yet to know?" he replies with a smirk. I give him a look of skepticism, but he shrugs it aside. "The others talk about you with pride, I just want to meet the person behind the stories."

No matter what I do, I can not suppress the smile. "Sorry to be the one to tell you, but most of the tales are exaggerated. Zacharie has a habit of doing that."

"Then what do I make of other's renditions?"

"You know, if we are on this personal story topic: why are you here? Why join the brotherhood?"

For the first time, Arno seems flabbergasted at what to say. His eyes turn away as he clasps his hands together and wrings his fingers together. "Another story for another time."

"You said that when we first met," I retort causing him to flinch.

"Now is still not the time."

I stand from the bench and turn to look at the assassin. "If you really want to know who I am, you can not hide anything either."

Those amber eyes glance up at me with a stare that weakens my knees. "Someday soon, perhaps."

X

Parchments, books, and other assortments are thrown and skewed over the study floor as I search for a certain document. It has been days since the boys arrived back to the bureau, but something has been plaguing my mind since their return. If my father had been associated with the Templars, then it was likely that it was put on some sort of record somewhere.

"What are you doing?" a voice questions. My body jumps out of surprise and I end up hitting my head on the desk as I try to look at the intruder. Arno leans against the threshold of the door with a smirk on his lips causing the scar along his nose to crinkle. "I thought Alphonse did not like us going through his paperwork."

"He doesn't like you four going through it," I retort as I pick up another piece of paper and skim along the lines for anything important. "I; however, am an exception."

"Is there anything in particular that you are searching for?" he asks as he gracefully maneuvers around the mess until he finds a seat on the study chair.

I stop in the middle of my work and turn to look at the man. "I've been thinking about our conversation the other day, and the only reason I continue this line of work is because of the injustice I saw the night Sauveterre died. With the revolution revealing questionable backgrounds of certain individuals, I think it's best if I do not jump to conclusions just yet until the facts are proven."

A genuine smile forms on his lips causing a mysterious chill to run down my spine. "You speak like an Assassin more than the others do."

I chuckle as I begin to sift through the papers once more. "Sometimes I think we forget that we are trying to achieve peace."

"Sometimes peace is achieved through the act of war."

I shake my head. "If the people truly wanted peace, war would never be an option."

Although I had yet to glance back over at my comrade, I can feel his intense stare on the back of my skull. He remains silent as I nervously begin to shuffle through a stack of papers that remained untouched. How long did he plan to make me uncomfortable?

"Dinner?"

All grace I have is thrown out the window as the parchments slip through my fingers and scatter all over the floor. "Excuse me?" I question as I hurry to correct the mess I just made.

"Would you like to accompany me to dinner?" the assassin inquires.

My eyes find his, but I see no clear motivation in his emotions. "The people of France are in the middle of a food crisis, and you want to have dinner together?"

He shrugs. "When was the last time you enjoyed a filling meal?"

Now that I recall the event….since I was still living in my family's _palais. _"It doesn't really matter."

Arno tsks before standing from the chair. "Meet me in the _Jardin des Halles _at dusk."

I have no time to leave a retort before he disappears out of the study. Dorian is learning some bad habits my fellow brothers use on me, making it harder on myself to keep up with all of them. Turning back to the strewn mess, I get back to work if I want to finish my research before being forced on a date with my mysterious comrade.


	8. Alliances

**Working all the time really makes you forget how fast time is flying. I actually tried to have this chapter published earlier this week, but not only have I been doing double the work while at my job, but I also had to attend a funeral, so sorry for the delay.**

**I do not have any news updates at this moment, but I do need to thank you guys for the support. You are all awesome, so without further delay:**

**Enjoy. **

Chapter 8: Alliances

Arno seems to sit patiently outside the bureau next to the _jardin _as he awaits my arrival. I do not feel ready to be alone with him. I don't even feel like I know him. Our few interactions are short and the longest time we've spent together was the first night we met. I can already tell this dinner was going to be a waste of time for the two of us. I was not one for 'bonding.'

Honey-colored eyes lock with mine, and before I could back out of this arrangement, the assassin is at my side with his arm linked with my own. "I almost thought you were not going to show," Arno states as he ushers me forward.

I let him lead, and although I try to break his grasp on my arm, I did so with no avail. "I considered it," I respond with a bit of indifference.

The corner of his lips curl downward slightly, but as long as I show no sign of wanting to be here, then this night might end sooner. Against his will, Dorian remains quiet for the most part as he escorts me through the city to wherever he planned to take us. Every now and then he will try to strike up a conversation that we both might enjoy, but I don't give him the pleasure. I know it is a bit rude to do, even with someone as kind as Dorian, but I do not have the time to be doing this. The quicker he realizes this is a lost cause, the faster we can end this 'date.'

"We are here," he announces with a fake smile.

"_Cathédrale Notre-Dame?" _I question with an arced brow as I turn my attention from the two large towers to the assassin. "I thought you said dinner, not church."

Arno finally releases my arm and gestures with both of his hands to stay. "Don't go anywhere. I'll come get you when the surprise is ready."

With that, he is across the street and half-way up the cathedral before I can even sigh. I will admit, he is getting faster; however, I notice his footing needs a bit more work. Shaking my head, I glance around at the taverns that were lively with people on this grand celebration. Some drink to forget the troubles while others for the victories at the Bastille and the mark it left in history. I want to join them, but I am forced to wait on my comrade.

"This is quite a surprise. I did not expect to see you here," a female's voice announces to my right, sending my attention her way. From under her black hood, her watery-green eyes analyze me while her red-coated lips twitch upward into a small smile. "Good to see you again, Nicole."

"Elise," I reply in between barred teeth. "Following me?"

She shakes her head and gestures toward the nearest tavern. "Can we talk inside? It's urgent."

My eyes shift from her to the _cathédrale _as I search for any sign of Arno. "Make it quick."

Elise nods and leads me inside the musty pub before seating us in the back where a few drunks had passed out. Before I can even ask why she brought me here, she tosses a few parchments on the table while her lips form a frown.

"I know the idea of working with me is distasteful, but you and I have the same goal: help the people," she starts as she brings her elbows onto the table and folds her hands in front of her chin. "There has been a bit of…corruption…in the Templar order. Those within the higher ranks are noticing the increased deaths of nobleman and are resorting to creating these factions that will help them maintain their power under false identification."

"And how is this a problem if you and your Templar friends remain in control?" I ask as I mimic her posture.

"Because they speak about executions and creating falsely-accused murders to keep the citizens scared. Fear does not control a country."

"It does temporarily," I retort. "Until you piss off the wrong people."

"I'm going to guess and say you are referring to the Assassins?"

I smirk. "I am talking about the citizens of France." Elise presses her lips together letting me know she is not going to intrude. "These men and women are not helpless. Once they find out the power they hold, not as individuals, but as a group, they will retaliate."

Watery-green eyes narrow as the red-head lowers her hands. "Are you insinuating something?"

"Just merely giving a friendly warning," I state as I stand from the table. "Have fun ruling the world."

"What's your answer, Nicole?" Elise questions as she follows my action.

I stop and stare at her for a moment as I analyze her behavior. She is desperate, that I am sure of, but there is a hint of…despair? Did something happen?

"Before I agree, I would like something in return," I barter while crossing my arms over my chest.

"Food? Gold?" she questions with distaste.

"Information on a Templar associate. His name was Édouard Sauveterre."

"Was?"

"He died eight years ago in his estate south of Versailles. I want to know if there was any outside involvement in his death."

"Why does an Assassin want to know what happened to a man who was killed so many years ago?"

I step forward causing her to flinch, but Elise stands her ground. "If you really want my help, you will not ask questions and just get the information for me. Leave a contact when you are ready."

With nothing left to say between us, I am the first to depart from the tavern and follow the road back to the location where Arno ordered me to wait. I could easily leave now and head back to the bureau before he even returns, but something at the back of my mind nags me to stay. With a sigh, I glance around at the many pedestrians on the street this late at night. Normally the city would be dead of activity by this hour, but with all the festivities, no one seems ready to sleep.

"You actually stayed?" I hear Arno say from behind me causing me to turn on my heel.

"You sound surprised," I retort as our eyes meet.

For once, a soft smile graces his lips out of what appears to be genuine happiness. Maybe I shouldn't have been too hard on him. He must really be trying to spend some time together if he is going through all this trouble.

The assassin clears his throat while his hand engulfs my wrist. "Hope you are ready to climb."

Without warning, Arno pulls me towards the base of the _cathédrale _before he ushers to follow him up the steep structure. At first, our ascension is peaceful and slow, but the further we climb, the more it turns into a race. The two of us are nearly equals in speed; however, Dorian has me beat by a few seconds thanks to his taller build.

As I near the edge of the roof that lies in between the two towers, Arno holds his hand for me to take, and I do so with gratitude. As soon as I am on the roof, the assassin pulls me away from the side and closer to the pillars before gesturing towards the horizon before us. With an open mouth, I stare in awe at the sun that peaks barely above the buildings, turning the sky into a canvas filled with red and orange.

"_Il est beau, non(_It is beautiful, no)?" Dorian asks as his eyes observe my reaction.

"_Oui_…very much so…" I respond while finally taking my eyes off the scenery.

As soon as my eyes lock with Arno's, heat immediately rush to my cheeks. We are barely a foot apart while one of his hands rests on my hip and the other is still interlocked with one of my own. Taking a step back, I break the contact and shift my eyes to the blanket resting on the stone beneath us.

"A _pique-nique_(picnic)?" I ask as a basket of bread and wine catches my attention.

"Ah…yes…" he says as he clears his throat once again. "Sorry if I could not fulfill my promise of an extravagant meal. I had to make due with the little time I had set for myself."

"You said filling dinner, not extravagant," I say as I make myself comfortable on the thin fabric. "At least you made an attempt. I can not say the same about my other comrades."

"Have the four of you never spent time together outside the assignments?" he questions as he lowers his hood and joins at my side. He quickly lights the lantern next to the basket just as the sun fully sets beyond the horizon.

I shrug. "Not outside of training or a pub, _non_. They do not enjoy the little things I suppose."

"I see." Silence falls between us as Arno breaks out the wine and pours the two of us a glass. The moment the container is in my hands, he offers a toast. "To a…better friendship?"

My laughter can not be suppressed as I click my glass with his. "To whatever it might bring."

Dorian's lips curl upwards as he drinks with me until our cups are empty. "I did not take you for one to handle her alcohol," he voices as he refills my glass.

I smile as I twirl the container causing the liquid to swirl inside. "It is a bit of a forced lesson when you live with men."

He chuckles. "It must be difficult."

"Indeed."

"Well," the assassin starts as he hands me a loaf of bread. "I have other reasons for inviting you here besides sharing a lovely dinner with you."

"Oh? Do tell me why," I say with a hint of playfulness.

"I am…questioning the true intentions behind Alphonse's assignments."

My attention snaps in Arno's direction whom is busy observing the patrons below. "And for what reasons are you doing this?"

He opens his mouth a few times, but immediately shuts it. "I feel as though he is hiding something from us. It's like what you said about Sauveterre: there are things not adding up like they are supposed to."

It is true that Alphonse was not giving all the information about the missions, but he has his reasons. With France in a state of panic and terror, both the Assassins and Templars are in disarray causing for trouble to easily brew between them, and with recent rumors of a rat in our order, my mentor did not want to take any chances.

"I'm sure there is an explanation," I express, but his body language tells me he does not seem to agree.

"Would you help me look into it? To make sure?" Arno asks as he finally chooses to gaze at me.

I bite my lip while staring back at my comrade. "Going against Alphonse could put me in deep trouble."

"And letting something happen that we could have prevented will be worse."

"Dorian, although I have been with the order for years, Alphonse still sees me as a woman. If I do anything to screw up, I will be doing study work for the rest of my days inside the Brotherhood. I'm sorry, but if you want answers, you will have to do it on your own."

The assassin sighs heavily as his body leans against the pillar behind him. "'Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.'"

My eyebrows knit together as I wrack my brain for a name. "Did you just quote Richard Lovelace?"

His eyes widen in surprise as his attention turns towards me once more. "You recognize the work?"

"Of course," I reply while chugging the rest of the liquid in my cup.

"You are more well-read than I imagined."

"A book to the mind is like a whetstone to a blade. Both must be maintained to stay sharp," I retort earning a small smile from Arno.

"That still does not explain where you get your sharp tongue from," he jokes.

With a smirk, I hold up the glass in my hands in a toasting gesture. "Thank the wine."

He laughs this time. "I do not believe one dinner will be enough to get to know the enigma that is my fellow assassin."

I shrug as I pour myself another glass of alcohol. "You are going to have to start making plans for your future dates then."

X

It's been several days since the last time I spoke to Alphonse. The bureau leader has been out on errands for the past week thanks to whomever this mole is that was leaking information to the Templars. If I ever meet the bastard, I will personally castrate him. With an anxious hesitance, I knock lightly on the study door and enter upon hearing my mentor's gruff reply. With light feet, I stride across the room and sit quietly on an empty chair.

"Is there a problem, Nicole?" he questions while setting down the parchments in his hand.

I let out a heavy sigh while wringing my fingers together. "Arno is starting to ask questions about the missing information in the assignments. If he is catching on to this, then so is Oliver and maybe Tristan."

Alphonse grunts in reply and goes back to looking at his papers. "They will ask their questions, but just act ignorant. Until this rat problem is solved, we need to leave them in the dark. _D'accord(_understood)?"

I bite my bottom lip. "Arno wants to investigate, and is asking for my help in doing so."

"What was your answer?"

"I told him I fear the repercussions."

My mentor nods. "_Bien(_good). He is a curious lad, but he does not need the encouragement."

"Sir, I fear he might try something drastic if he can't get the answers he wants. Why not tell him the truth?"

Alphonse sighs before placing the parchments on the table and gazing up at my small form. "Right now, we do not know who to trust. This person is probably not even in this bureau, but we must be cautious, and until I have proof that it is not any of my men, then they will continue what they are doing with the information I can give them."

I bite the inside in my cheek, but I nod in understanding. There is no arguing with Alphonse if I wanted to stay in the field. Standing from the chair, I bow out of respect before exiting the room.

If my mentor is not going to place his full trust in the boys, then I would have to be the one to give it to them. Maybe by doing so, we can finally rid of this pest.


	9. Deception

**Okay guys, I need your input on something.  
**

**A friend of mine discovered this story and when she found out I wrote it, she told me that she wanted to see Arno's POV, so...What do you guys think? Should I make a second story based off of his point of view? **

**If I get enough good feedback on the idea, I will go ahead with it, but I want to know what you think.**

**Enjoy.  
**

Chapter 9: Deception

There can not be anything more embarrassing than being so short that you have to use the climbing skills taught by Assassins just to reach a book on the top shelf. I do not bother jumping down, but instead use one hand to flip through the pages while my body clings to the crevices in the structure. I know Alphonse will be angry if he ever finds out that I decided to go through his research while he was out, but I need to get as much information as possible before I discuss plans with the boys. Whatever scarce details he may have could be beneficial.

Footsteps down the corridor cause me to pause in the middle of a line, close the book and place it back on the shelf. Swiftly, I jump from my position and climb into the nearest chair and casually wait for whomever to enter the study. My heart pounds loudly in my chest, but I mask my quick breaths to give a calm façade.

I was not expecting to see the familiar blue-cloak of my comrade as he enters through the door with a look of anger printed in his features. As soon as his eyes catch a glimpse of my form, he instantly takes a deep breath and releases the tension from his face and shoulders. My brows furrow as I examine his behavior, but I can not get pass the mystery that lingers around him.

"What are you doing here?" he questions with an arced brow as he glances around the room.

"Waiting on Alphonse," I reply nonchalantly.

It's his turn to observe me with a questionable look. "He could be out for hours, and you want to wait for him?"

I shrug. "I have nothing better to do."

Arno's lips press together into a thin line as he crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the threshold of the study. "Why do you need to talk to him?" he asks.

"I need some information," I reply. Might as well be truthful in some way. "_Et vous(_and you)?"

"_Même_(same)."

I bite the inside of my cheek to suppress my thoughts from becoming aloud. Should I tell him? If I do, it might speed up this research, but he may react the wrong way if I do not have any clarity to back it all up. I guess I could take a leap of faith….

"Dorian," I start as I stand from the chair. "Do you think we could discuss something….elsewhere?"

He gives me a suspicious stare, but nods after several moments. Alphonse is right that he is a curious one, which can help move this process along; however, I know I shouldn't encourage this rule-breaking behavior. Signaling with my hands, he follows me out of the room, down the hall and out the doors of the church. We do not travel far from the bureau before climbing up the side of a building and taking a seat on the rooftop. The tiles burn our backsides in the summer sun, but we ignore it as we gaze at the pedestrians wandering the streets below.

"So what is so important that it has us hiding away together?" Arno questions with a grin. "If you were embarrassed to talk about the dinner, you could have just said so."

I slap his arm, but return the smile. "I'm not here to talk about the dinner, but it's about the offer you made."

His face becomes serious as he turns his body more towards me. "Something's changed your mind?"

"A few things, yes," I reply while my heart rate increases. "I know you may…_déteste(_hate) me for keeping this information from you…but…" I take in a large breath of air. "It is true that Alphonse is not saying everything he needs to, but there is a problem within the brotherhood…."

Arno's eyes narrow, which, in turn, wrinkles the scar on his nose giving him a menacing look. "You knew he was keeping something from us?"

I'm hesitant to nod as my form seems to shrink under his glare. "It's not what you think. There is a Templar within our ranks, and to make sure it is not one of us, Alphonse kept a few… important details a secret."

His jaw tightens while his hands clench into fists. "And you knew about this?"

"I was following orders. He said he wants to be positive he knows who this person is before he takes affirmative action."

"So why tell all of this to me now?"

"Because I need your help catching this rat."

Arno seems shocked at my statement, allowing his features to soften. "You, the law-abiding citizen, want to disobey orders to find this guy?"

"Yes," I say this time with confidence.

His smile is wide, showing off his sharp canines. "Well, I'm glad to see you breaking from this shell of yours, but I do hope you have a plan to go along with this."

A smirk breaks out across my face as I nod. "That is why I wanted to talk to you first. Before we decide to bring the others into this mess, if we choose to, then we need to gather what little information this mole has left behind for us. Without it, we are basically shooting into smoke."

Arno huffs before lying back against the roof. "That's the problem. If he had abandoned anything, then I might have figured this situation out on my own. How do we catch somebody who does not leave a trace of evidence in his wake?"

I sigh as I too lie down on my back. "I guess we will have to resort to asking the Templars ourselves."

X

How did we even end up in this mess?

When I told Arno that we were forced to go out and find a hot trail to follow, the last place I thought we would go was the slums. I've always hated this part of the city where the streets are filled with whores, drunks and con-artists. I know that at some point I might have ended up here had Tristan not saved me, which made me hate it that much more. It was Paris' trash bin for unwanted citizens.

The assassin stays close by my side while his honey-colored irises narrow on the crowd around us. Even before the start of the food crisis, a person had to watch their back at all times when navigating this area. If a passing thief does not take your coin pouch, then you were most likely going to be stabbed in the back later down the road.

Dark clouds had gathered above us some time ago, but the first drop of rain did not begin its decent until the two of us reach the tavern that doubled as a hostel. With all the information we were able to gather, the only thing we were able to make sense of was this location. My only guess is that our mole used it as the exchange spot.

As the rain becomes denser, Arno and I are forced to sprint the rest of the way to the building and hide within the protection of the foul stench of alcohol that reeks throughout the inn. We had originally planned to wait along the rooftops for any sign of suspicious behavior, but it seems we were at an impasse. With no other choice, the two of us stride over to the barmaid while our eyes remain vigilante on the patrons around us.

"What can I get you?" she asks as Arno approaches the counter.

"_Une chambre, s'il vous plaît(_one room, please)," I announce as I join at the assassin's side. "One that is preferably on the second floor."

"Oh," she says while giving us a knowing look. She immediately hands over a brass key from her apron pocket as I place my money on the counter. "Your room is the third door on your left once you get up the stairs."

Right as the piece of metal hits the flesh of my hand, she offers the two of us a wink before moving on to the next customer. Arno's cheeks are a slight pink as we make the ascension into the hostel part of the tavern and quickly disappear behind the thin planks of wood that separate us from the other guests.

"Why do we need a room if we can just linger downstairs until our rat arrives?" Dorian questions as I remove my coat and hang it across a chair to dry.

"Whomever this person is, they will recognize us the moment they enter the pub," I explain while pressing my heel on the ends of the floorboards. "Old hostels like this are normally not in good shape, and judging by the wood, I would say they do not care about their upkeep."

Finally a board sinks beneath my foot causing me to smirk. With Arno's help, I lift the plywood until the pressure would not allow it any more before placing the paper weight from the desk underneath it in order to hold the wood in place. The view of the bar below is narrow, but by changing angles, we could see the entirety of the inn while it would be harder for them to see us.

"Where did you learn that trick?" the assassin asks as we both stand from the floor.

I shrug. "Just something you learn after a while, I suppose."

"So who should take first shift? You or I?"

I glance over at him as he follows my example and removes both his drenched cloak and waistcoat and lays them out to dry. It's been some time since I've seen him like this. Like myself, he feels almost naked without the security of his hood, and I guess it is what the order does to you.

"It's up to you," I reply as I take a seat on the bed.

He nods as he sits on the floor. "What should we be looking for anyway? If this mole has been in the order for some time, then he will know how to blend with the crowd."

"He will be one of two people. First is confident and arrogant. The second is cautious and always looking over his shoulder."

"Shouldn't be too hard, especially on this side of town," Arno states with a note of sarcasm.

I smile as I lie down fully on the bed. "Wake me when you want to switch shifts."

X

It has been nearly twenty-four hours and still no sign of our rat. The two of us had become restless and Arno eventually began pacing the room to occupy his growing boredom. I stretch the tension from my shoulders and back, receiving a few pops from my bones that were desperately needed. We have very little time until the owner will come knocking to kick us out and I'm sure there is someone at the bureau looking for us.

"I think we need to call it a day," I express as I stand from the floor. "I'm sure we've already missed our window of opportunity, and if that is not the case, then we most likely did a stakeout on a day they were not going to meet."

Arno's lips press into a thin line as he stops to gaze at me. "Should we not try to stay a while longer?"

I shake my head. "Our time for the room is about to expire, and Alphonse might be waiting for us back at the bureau. Although we want to catch this guy, we can not let up our duties as assassins."

He sighs irritably but mutters a 'fine' anyway. I remove the paperweight from the floorboard and gently restore the piece of wood back to its former position before placing the apparatus back on the desk. Both Arno and I reach for our coats when we hear a loud banging on the door as though the person on the other side was trying to knock it down.

"It's checkout time, either pay for another night or leave," a gruff voice announces.

"Give us a minute," Arno calls, but the knocking persists.

We still have yet to put our coats on when the man begins to unlock our door. Dorian places his hand on the hilt of his cutlass, readying himself for a fight if the owner decides to get aggressive. Wanting to avoid unwanted attention, I push the assassin onto the bed and climb on top of him before brushing my lips along the corner of his mouth. As predicted, the door flies open and the man halts in his path as soon as he sees me separate from Arno to glare at him.

"He said we will be out in a minute," I growl earning a flinch from the owner who is twice my size.

Although tense and still in shock, my comrade also sends a glare towards the man as he apologizes before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. With a heavy sigh, I leap off of Arno and grab my coat from the chair. My companion is slow to respond and gradually sits up on the bed with a look of confusion on his face.

"What was that all about?" he questions while standing.

"Have you never avoided combat with a situation like that?" I ask in return earning an arced brow from the man.

"I can not say that I've had the pleasure."

I smile his way as I notice his flushed features. "We do not use it often, but it is a boon to have from time to time."

"And the situation did not…" Arno starts, but seems to be at a loss for words.

"It's nothing to worry about, Dorian," I reassure. "Unless it made you feel awkward."

"Well…it was not something I was prepared for."

Once I am certain my coat is on properly, I glance up at the assassin whom still has yet to redress. "Do tell me that was not your first…almost kiss?" His cheeks darken in hue, and although I try to hide the smile, the resistance is futile.

"Are you saying that you do not believe that I have yet to woo a woman?" the assassin jokes upon recovering from his shock.

I let out a low chuckle. "Your reaction tells me you have not."

His features become mischievous as he begins to step closer towards me causing me to take a step back. I'm too caught up in his hazel eyes that I do not expect the wood that now presses against my back as his tall stature traps me in place. Arno's grin widens before he leans in close until our noses rub against one another and his lips brush gently against my own. My heart races in my chest as my breath hitches in my throat.

"You were saying?" he asks in a husky voice before retreating from the bedroom, leaving me with shaky knees. What did I just get myself into?

Taking a deep breath, I attempt to clear my head and follow after the assassin into the tavern as he is tossing the key at the owner while heading for the exit. I am not about to let him win this round, so for now I am forced to calm the butterflies in my stomach and fall into step with Dorian as he dresses in his waistcoat and cloak.

I want to say something to put myself in the advantage of our little contest, but as soon as I open my mouth, Arno's hand engulfs my wrist before pulling me behind a stack of crates. Glancing up at my comrade, he automatically signals me to be quiet before pointing at the middle of the street. With brows knit together in confusion, I glance into the crowd until my focus lands on the figure of interest, causing my eyes to widen.

The two of us do not say a word, but just watch in silence as the traitor speaks to an individual garbed in gray and hands off a stack of envelopes. They exchange several more words before they disperse back into the bustling slums and out of sight. Although Arno is ushering for me to follow after the shady man, my body does not want to react after witnessing the scene that just unfolded.

"Nicole, _allons-y(_let's go)!" my comrade calls, but his voice is distant in my ears.

He eventually gives up and pursues the individual himself, leaving me behind the stack of discarded crates and wagon parts. Were my eyes deceiving me? No….

Why would Alphonse betray us?


	10. The Fall

**Sorry for the late update. I had a bad case of the writer's block.**

**Anyway, we are nearing the two month marker which means I need to start putting out more chapters if I want to get everything in before the release date. Also, for those of you who were confused, the Arno's POV thing was going to be a whole other story rather than just a chapter, and because of the positive feedback, I will be making the story, but right now I am still sampling a new writing style just for him, so I do not know when I will have it published. **

**Also, sorry for the filler chapter, I needed to get this out of the way in order to make room for the chaos ahead. **

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 10: The Fall

My hands are clasped together in front of my chin as I glance between the documents strewn all over the table. Arno sits across from me in the same position as he too probably has the same thoughts running through his head. Although I had witnessed the exchange and read the evidence, my mind still can not accept the betrayal.

Alphonse has always been like a father to me. Even when he was stern, he only had the best intentions in his heart, but what drove him to do this? I feel almost sick thinking about the act of using me to steal information just so he could sell it to the Templars. I'm both upset and pissed off, which is not a very good combination.

"What do you think?" Arno questions as we lock eyes. "Should we inform the others, or should we consider other options?"

I swallow back the lump in my throat and force the tears to stay in my eyes. The feeling of mental exhaustion is taking over and all I want to do is sleep. "Tristan and Zacharie, even with evidence, will not understand," I reply with a tremble in my tone. "It would be best if we spoke to Oliver so that he can convince them."

"You believe he can do that?"

I nod. "He has a way with words."

Arno places a hand on top of my clasped ones and lowers them from my face. I do not even realize I am shaking until my companion steadies my quivering fingers in between his palms. "I realize this is not easy," he states as he places a digit under my chin and gently pulls my attention upward until our eyes meet. "But I need you for this."

I pull away from him and cross my arms over my chest. "I will be fine. If Alphonse has become a traitor to the Brotherhood, then we have no other choice." Dorian frowns at the cold shoulder I am giving him, but I can not let him comfort me. It only makes the pain worse.

"You will have to call the orders on this one. I fear that I am not close enough to the situation to handle it properly," Arno explains as he collects the documents and places them in his coat. "Are you sure you will be fine?"

Although my chest tightens in agony, I nod anyway. "Let's hurry back to the bureau."

X

Where the hell could they be?

I've been waiting for my brothers for nearly six hours, but they have yet to return. The trembling that had taken over my body several hours ago still rattles my bones while I pace back and forth in the chancel of the church. What makes matters worse is my mentor's presence lingering beyond the altar as his pen scratches against parchment in what I'm sure is a hurried attempt at a letter for the Templars. I feel almost terrified being alone in a building with the man, but for now I am trapped here until he orders me away.

My heart races at the sound of iron clicking against one another as the door to the church opens to reveal my fellow comrades. With smiles are their faces, they speak amongst one another until they spot me waiting patiently. Zacharie is the first to offer me a grin before picking me up in a hug.

"It always feels like it has been ages since our last conversation," he says as he lowers me back to the ground.

I glance up at him with a smile of my own before gazing back and forth at the others. "Alphonse is keeping me busy here," I retort while forcing down my nervousness. "So what kept you boys active today?"

"Factions mostly," Tristan interjects before Zach could speak. "They are building in popularity and starting to become a bit…extreme."

I furrow my brows as I can not help but become curious. "What do you mean by extreme?"

"Executions by torturous methods is a main concern," Oliver speaks up.

Elise had warned about this, but I still have yet to hear from her. "Who are the people being executed?" I question.

Zacharie shrugs. "It's for the most part random. A bakery owner here; a homeless man there. Throw in a few clergy along with the poor and you basically have mix of chaos."

Tristan nods. "With the deaths not sharing any connections besides made up sins, the citizens are starting to worry that they will be next in the crossfire."

I bite my lip to suppress the knowledge of the situation as I glance between the boys. First with Alphonse and now these executions, I can not imagine any worse news right now. The Templars have finally seeped within the cracks of France's foundation and are now destroying the structure from the inside. I wonder if I will be able to convince Elise for information on the topic once she decides to show her face again.

"Is Alphonse busy?" Oliver asks as his attention lands on me.

I tense as soon as the name reaches my ears, earning a concerned look from each of the males. "Yeah," I reply with a light tremble before clearing my throat. "He has recently been contacted by the council. I think they are beginning to pressure him to receive more information on Robespierre."

Tristan clicks his tongue. "Those stiffs always want something more than what they have."

"Indeed," I mutter before turning towards Oliver. "Can you spare a few minutes? We need to talk."

Both Zacharie and Tristan furrow their brows as our green-cloaked comrade nods and follows me towards the stable section of the building. Once we were out of earshot, I check the surrounding rafters for any prying eyes before putting my full attention on Oliver. Just as predicted, he is calculating my behavior while his features remain emotionless.

"This is about the way you have been acting the past few weeks?" he questions.

I nod while biting my bottom lip. "Several months ago, Alphonse asked me to receive information during assignments and send them directly to him without the three of you noticing," I reply which earns a frown from the man. "His reasoning was due to a traitor inside the brotherhood. The letter from the council did not say where the rat was hiding, but only that the bureau leaders should stay cautious."

"And why would he tell you, but not the rest of us?" he interrogates as he becomes tense.

"He said he wanted to be sure," I mutter while trying to mask the quiver in my tone. "I had read the letters and seen for myself the worry the council had on the subject. What I did not know was that I was being used the entire time."

"Speak sense," Oliver says in sharp tone causing me to flinch.

"Alphonse is the traitor."

His brown eyes widen while a hint of disbelief and shock cross his face momentarily. "Is there proof?"

I nod, but I do not have the courage to look at him. "It's under my bed. Arno was with me when Alphonse and a Templar associate exchanged documents."

Oliver sighs as he runs a hand through his dark locks. It's rare that I see him in such a state, but he is currently like me, the shock is overwhelming. "Let me see the evidence for myself and I will speak to Arno when he returns. Do you plan on telling Tristan and Zacharie?"

I shake my head. "Not yet. It will be difficult to discuss this matter with them. I fear they may not be able to handle such a delicate situation."

He nods out of understanding. "Until the case is clear, keep them in the dark. You were right in doing so; they might have taken offense to the accusations."

Although it was meant to be comforting, the reassurance did not help. Was I even capable of treating this problem?

X

Several hours have passed since the last time I spoke with Oliver. Arno arrived not too long ago, and upon reviewing the evidence, he and our green-cloaked comrade had a lengthy discussion about the topic at hand. The wait is nerve-wracking, and after feeling suffocated by the walls of the church, I finally decide a breath of fresh air on the roof would do me some good.

Although the sun shines brightly and the sky is a beautiful blue with little to no clouds in sight, the day feels depressing. The inevitable was soon to come, but for now I am forced to wait in mental agony. I sigh as I rub my temples to suppress the migraine that is forming. I do not believe my sanity will make it to the end of the day.

"Are you going to be alright?" a voice calls.

It shouldn't be such a shock to me anymore that he is always able to find my location whether I want him to or not, but yet here I am jumping out of surprise at his sudden intrusion. "I will be fine," I reply as I turn to gaze at him.

He does not offer his familiar smile as he takes a seat next to me and we both turn our attentions to the Paris landscape. "Oliver matched our stories together and read over the documents carefully," Dorian starts with a slight hesitance. "He agrees that this needs to be sorted, and will discuss further planning with Zacharie and Tristan. Our choices are to either turn him over to the council, or confront him ourselves."

"We are putting it to a vote then?" I question.

He nods. "I hardly know the man personally, but to send him to those men who run this Brotherhood would be a fate worse than death."

So he has met those bastards…I wonder what else he has done that he has yet to mention. "I'm sorry that you had the displeasure of talking to them, but they will know what to do."

Arno finally glances at me and our eyes lock. "The council…do you trust them?"

With my eyes still mesmerized in his, I shake my head. "They are still stuck in their old ways. It's either follow the creed or be known as a traitor. Everyone is expendable save for those whose lives remain politically promising."

"Would you be willing to hand Alphonse over to them?"

Without a doubt in my mind, I know what has to be done. "He may have traded information for coin, but he does not deserve what they plan on doing to him."

"And you are okay with what has to be done if he confesses to his sins?"

My breath hitches in my throat causing me to look away from the assassin. "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Arno's stare observing me closely causing a chill to run down my spine. "Oliver should be done with Tristan and Zacharie…If you do not want to-"

My attention snaps his direction causing him to instantly close his mouth. "Why are you constantly worrying about my well being?" I question as I stand from the edge of the building. "I may be a woman, but I will not sit back while you boys do this without me."

He jumps to his feet and uses his taller stature to overshadow me. "Have you seen yourself recently? We are all worried about you, and honestly you look as though you haven't slept since our stay at the inn. Now tell me the truth: can you handle this or not?"

I look him hard in the eyes, and he returns the gaze. "No," I reply truthfully. "But this has to be done, so I will be there by your side the entire time."

His eyes soften as he reaches to place a hand on my shoulder. "Stay strong."

Arno says nothing more as he moves toward the side of the building and clambers down the flying buttresses. I take in a heavy breath as I watch him move gracefully along the structure. Only a few months into the order and he is already almost a master in skill. I will never be able to reach that rank thanks to my gender, and here I watch a man who has been with us for such a short time and he will surely surpass me in the coming weeks. I can not help but feel envious.

Noting the hay wagon below my vantage point, I take a leap of faith and beat my fellow assassin to the ground. I grin his way as I brush the straw from my robes and the two of us make our entrance into the bureau. Alphonse had left some time ago on an 'errand,' giving the five of us time to plan our confrontation. Both Zacharie and Tristan sit on the pews with wide eyes as they stare into the empty space of the church while Oliver greets Arno and I with a nod.

"Give them a few more minutes," the green-cloaked assassin says.

"Have they agreed to a solution yet?" Dorian asks as we both find a seat on a separate pew.

Oliver shakes his head. "The news is still seeping through."

"Are you sure about this?" Tristan questions while his eyes move from one person to the next.

"We do not want to believe it either, but it's true," I reply causing the brute to click his tongue out of anger.

"What are we supposed to do?" Zacharie finally speaks up.

"We make a vote," Oliver announces. "We either take care of the situation ourselves or hand him over to the council and they will decide his punishment."

"You're joking?" Tristan growls in between his teeth.

The green-cloaked assassin is unfazed as he shakes his head. "Do not cloud your perspective. We are assassins, and unless you plan on betraying the Brotherhood for a traitor's life, then we must do what is necessary."

Tristan looks ready to attack at a moments notice, but he stays his place on the bench. "He goes with the council. It's their judgment whether he is guilty or innocent."

Zacharie raises his hand. "Council."

"Council," I speak up, earning a stare from Arno.

"Three out of five," Oliver states as he glances over at Dorian. "Do you have an input?"

The assassin shakes his head. "The decision has been made."

Just when I think there is going to a break for us to get our bearings, the door to the church opens, revealing the man in question. We each turn to glance at him before gazing at one another. Alphonse appears confused as he approaches us and observes our odd behavior.

"Is there something you would like to tell me?" our mentor asks while we all stand.

"What have you been telling the Templars?" Tristan gets straight to the point as we slowly surround the bureau leader.

Alphonse's eyes widen as his attention lands on all of us briefly. "What is the meaning of this?"

"We know you have been selling information. Nicole and I witnessed it," Arno speaks up causing the brute to turn towards me.

"You told me the truth in order to lie to me," I say with barred teeth.

Alphonse chuckles making the five of us arc a brow in confusion. "The one person I thought would never question my authority is the one to disobey her direct orders. Let me guess…" He turns towards Arno. "…you were the one to give her the idea to pursue the thought."

"So you admit to working for the Templars?" Oliver questions.

"I ain't denying it, are I?" the bureau leader growls as he releases his hidden blade. "If only you knew the inner structure of the Brotherhood, you would know that we are just as messed up as the Templars, but when you take a step back, you will see that their ideas are less crazy."

"Why not just retire than betray us?" Zacharie questions. "We are family."

"No, kid," Alphonse states as he nears my location while I take a step back. "We're not."

The narrow walkway of the stables has me trapped in a linear location, allowing for no free movement. Just as our mentor raises his hand to strike and I match my pose to block, he screams before falling to one knee while holding the other. Tristan stands behind him with his cutlass in hand just as Oliver pulls his gun from its holster. The shot is loud upon release, but nothing matched the sound of the splitting of bone as the bullet pierced Alphonse's skull.

The scream does not pass my lips as blood splatters over my robes and the brute falls motionless to the ground. Just like that, in a few mere seconds, the man who had been like a second father to me is now dead. The lump in my throat grows larger, but the tears do not fall from my eyes as I watch red liquid pool on the floor in front of me.

It isn't until Arno takes me in his arms and leads me away from the scene when I finally lose control. I'm grateful he does not let go because without him, I would not be able to stand.

"Stay strong," he whispers as his hold tightens. "This is not the end for us."


	11. The Council

**Hey guys!**

**I have some good news:**

**1) I just finished setting up my beta-reader profile here on the website, so if you guys ever need help with you stories, I am available. **

**2) The Arno POV story is under construction at the moment and should be published within the next few days.**

**I am a bit iffy about starting the second story to be honest, but I guess since I already have the story mapped out in this one, it should be easy telling the same tale through Arno's eyes. **

**Anyway, Enjoy. **

Chapter 11: The Council

It has been some time since the council has dared to venture this far from their sanctuary. They always talk about the sacrifices we need to make for the good of the people; however, when it is their turn, it always seems incontinent. Yet, here they stand in front of the corpse of our former mentor as they speak of further actions for the five of us.

My eyes have long since dried, but now the exhaustion of the past few days is taking a beating out of me. Despite Tristan's remarks, Arno continues to stay at my side with his arm around my shoulder as support for my tired physique. I'm grateful for his concern, but I really wish he would let go. The council is already upset by my acceptance into the brotherhood, and now that the man who had taken me in has died a traitor, I fear that my time as an assassin is ending.

All of us tense as soon as the Brotherhood leaders turn to us and begin moving our direction. Arno instantly pulls me up in a straighter stance and moves away so I can stand on my own. I'm glad he realizes that he can not show any signs of weakness in front of these men.

"Why was he killed instead being brought to us?" one of the men questions.

Tristan and Oliver are the first to look at one another before they glance between the rest of us. We all know why they had changed their minds in the midst of it, but to let the council know it was to protect me would just make it easier for them to decide my fate.

"We had made it clear amongst ourselves that we would bring him in, but he chose to fight," Oliver states. "As a Master Assassin, he was much more skilled than us. If we did not eliminate him, I'm sure he would have ended our lives."

"You should of contacted us before confronting him. Now we have nothing but a dead body and no answers to our questions," another member remarks.

"Nicole and I witnessed the exchange, and we have the documents in our possession after seeking and eliminating the Templar associate. You can at least be grateful that you no longer have a rat within your order," Arno responds in a stern tone causing my comrades and I to look at him in shock. No one has ever dared to speak to the council like that before.

Then again, Arno is not like the rest of the assassins.

"We realize our mistake," I say to move the tension away from Dorian. "But I'm sure you can agree that the five of us out weigh the life of one traitor."

The four elders sneer beneath their hoods at the sight of me, decreasing my already low self-esteem. There is no pleasing these men, but thanks to their hatred of my gender, all anger is now directed away from Arno and towards me.

"Stay your tongue, girl!" one of the council men snaps.

Tristan steps up and stands between us. "You have to believe us when we say that we did not want this to happen, but Alphonse gave us no other choice."

The council's gaze goes from Tristan to myself before they glance at the others. "Until this matter is resolved, this bureau is hereby under our direct commands," the man on the far left announces. "The four of you will remain here and will receive orders by messenger. You boys are no longer apprentices. It's about time you did things on your own."

"The four of us?" Zacharie finally speaks.

"Since the girl was never pledged into the Brotherhood by our means, she will return with us and prove that she is capable of the honor of becoming an assassin. For now, she is will be considered a novice."

With all anxiety shedding away, I step forward while anger boils within my blood, but I am stopped when my comrades move in front of me. "Nicole has already proven herself to this order. She doesn't need to have it justified!" Tristan retorts.

"If that is so, then her time with us will be short lived and she will have her former status returned to her," another elder explains.

Before there is anything more to be said, I push past the boys and look each of the council men in the eye. "I do not need to have my skills tested, but if you are so desperate to have me thrown from the Brotherhood in order to protect your traditions, then I will go to prove you wrong."

"Nicole-" Zacharie starts, but his voice mutes as our eyes meet. Both he and the others have the same worried look on their faces, but I give them a reassuring smile.

"I'll be back soon," I say, but they do not seem convinced.

The council men sneer once more. "We leave as soon as you are packed."

X

I've never been to the main headquarters before, but like everything else in this city, there were many rumors. Since the elders are not too fond of me, we do not take the main entrance into the bureau, but instead enter a catacomb that would lead us straight there. I guess they still have too many trust issues to show off the grand castle they like to hide beneath.

As we reach the underground entrance to the headquarters, one of the men steps forwards and presses a stone slab causing a new passage way to open. Without much of a warning, I am shoved forward while the council follows behind me. As much as I would like to turn around and land a good punch on the asshole, I am forced to remain calm until this whole endeavor is over.

A stairwell leads to whatever _bâitment(_building) that stands above us, and with every step, my stomach leaps with anxiety. Tristan used to say it was bustling with assassins ranging from novices to masters, and to my surprise, he was right. I feel meager compared to the men who roam the floors and of this former fortress.

"Just like every novice, you will sleep in the barracks," one of the elders states as I turn my attention from the stone arches to the council men. "You will train, eat, and hunt with them. There is no special treatment, _d'accord?"_

"I never asked for it," I retort while tightening my grip on my bag.

They each curl their lips as their eyes narrow. I glare back knowing that nice behavior was not going to get me far. Although I am beyond terrified at what these men are capable of, it is best not to show it.

One of the elders steps forward. "Your group is stationed down hall. Third down from the end. They will be completing their initiation test this week, so be up to par with their skill."

I fake a smile. "Will do."

They don't even spare a 'good luck' as they shove me out of the way with their shoulders and disappear into the mass of assassins who roam the old _forteresse. _Each man that passes by my smaller form gives a look of disbelief while I am busy studying my new surroundings.

Unlike the rest of the Brotherhood that is spread out across the world, the French assassins still practice the old ways: the traditions of the Levantine. They still hide in their castles and use the elders as a guide to how they live their lives even if they are ordered to sacrifice themselves to send a powerful message. I knew better than to let these men take control, but the assassins only knew the rules that came with their assignments.

With a sigh, I push through the crowd to find my new room while ignoring the stares. I can understand their confusion seeing as how I am the only female here, and it probably does not help that my robes are covered in the blood of my former mentor. I wonder what they questioned more: the stain or my gender.

As I approach the door to which I am assigned, I take a deep breath to calm the tension rising in my shoulders. This is only temporary, but I can feel the overwhelming dread that was beginning to catch up with me. The past few days have been a blur in my head due to the drowsiness that I don't even feel like this is reality. I lost Alphonse and my rank in just a matter of hours, and now I do not know where I am with people whom I've never met. Could this please just be a horrible nightmare.

Finally swallowing back my fear, I open the door to reveal eight straw beds divided evenly on opposite sides of the room with chests placed at the end of each one. Seven pairs of eyes instantly snap my direction making my heart race at the attention. I never really had trouble living with my comrades since they were each significantly older than I, but these boys were my age or may be a few years younger.

"Who the hell are you?" a sandy-haired boy questions as he is the first to approach me. His green eyes are narrow and snake-like with a calculating gaze to match. He is tall and thin, but not short on muscle.

"_Je m'appelle Nicole,_" I reply with a sternness in my voice. "I will be training with you until the initiation test."

Every single one of them laughs before they each begin to draw closer. I tense while my fingers grip the handle of my bag tighter. I can not out power them, but I am positive I will be able to strategize a means of escape.

"Is that so?" a dark-skinned boy asks as they now have me completely trapped between the door and them.

"If you do not mind, I would like to find my bed now," I say as I try to push past the wall they have created, but they do not move.

"There are no women in the Brotherhood," another boy states. "So what are you? A prostitute?"

Without hesitance, I land a right hook on his jaw before slamming my palm against his throat. He instantly falls to his knees while gasping for air causing the rest of the boys to take a step back.

"You see this blood?" I question as I point to my cloak. "This belongs to a man who betrayed our order: my mentor. Now if any of you want to attempt to harass me as long as I am here then you better pray to God that I am less of an assassin than you are."

I receive silence in return allowing me to pick up my bag and push past the novices in order to reach the only made bed in the room. All they do is stare as I place my possessions inside the trunk along with my dirtied cloak. A firm first impression is my only defense and I can only hope that the punch did its magic. My only assumption that it worked is their hesitance to go back to whatever it is they were doing before I arrived.

With a huff, I lie down on the uncomfortable bed and close my eyes. Let the hell begin.

X

Banging on wood awakens me with a start along with the other assassins. Without delay, they each jump from their beds and quickly move to get dressed causing me to follow in step. Even with my back turned against them, I can feel their stares as they slow their movements to wait for me to undress. It is pathetic really.

Sighing, I pull my shirt over my head, grab a fresh one, and slide it over my torso. I smile to myself knowing the disappointment they must be suffering thanks to the bindings I always wear. I am quick to lace my torso, but as soon as I grab my cloak, I realize that there would be no use for it. As a novice with no rank, I officially have no hood to declare my status. I also believe a new one is going to be needed after the trauma that one has been through; it's been in combat for far too long.

Another bang echoes off the door and now the boys are piling out of the room. Although I keep in pace with them, the other assassins are also filling the halls, making it harder to maneuver. I have no idea what is going on, but judging by the alert behavior of the others, this is a daily routine for them. The crowd stops as soon as our lungs hit the fresh morning air of the courtyard before turning to face the Master Assassin that stands above us on a rampart. Like a hawk, he inspects the lot of us with his back straight and his arms resting behind his back. I watch as some of the boys mimic his pose while others merely stand more upright. This feels more like a military than it does an order.

"As you may know, this week will decide if you are ready to begin your journey to becoming a Master Assassin," the man on the ramparts announces as he begins to pace. "It will not be easy, and the majority of you will not pass. Good luck."

Short and to the point. The familiar sinking feeling shudders over me as I watch several men separate the crowd into groups of five before pointing in a random direction. The boys do not wait around and go immediately where they were supposed to without question. I wonder what exactly they have planned for us.

"_Un. Deux. Trois. Quatre. Cinq," _an older man counts as he points towards myself and the novices surrounding me. "You five to the weapon arena."

Without a clue to what is happening, I follow my fellow companions out of the courtyard, down a breezeway and out into the fields of Paris' surrounding countryside. Several circular, fenced in areas are lined along the property with training weapons organized neatly next to them. So my first test was battle readiness.

The five of us approach the arena where another Master Assassin awaits our arrival. He snarls his upper lip as soon as his eyes land of us before spitting on the ground. "Just my luck to get four scrawny rats and a succubus," he mutters.

At least I wasn't refereed to as dirt.

"You, girl and the tall boy. You two in the arena first," the assassin calls as he tosses both of us a dull blade.

We do not say anything and obey the orders. I twirl the blade in my hand to get a feel for the balance before turning to my opponent. The same snake-eyed novice from my barracks stands before me in a ready position with his grip weak on his sword. What were the odds?

"The rules are simple, keep the fight clean, and no cheating. Fighting dirty is fair as long as there is no outside resources," the man states while glaring at the other boys. "Start when you are ready."

The novice holds nothing back as he charges forward and swings heavily from his right side. With a calm mind and steady breath, I sway to the left before dancing around his flying sword. As soon as I am behind him, I knock my blade into the back of his knee causing him to fall before resting the dull steel on the back of his neck.

"Looks like the succubus wins," the Master Assassin smirks. "Who wants to be the next to face her?"

The boys glance at one another while shaking their heads. It really is amusing to watch, but if none of them want to fight, then how was I going to prove my skill?

"How about we make it fair then? Two versus one since clearly the only person around here who has the balls to do anything is the girl," the man remarks.

The novice kneeling at the end of my blade stands and shoves my sword from his neck before pointing at me. "I want a rematch!" he declares. "Who wants to join?"

The rest hesitate before a dark-haired boy grabs a training spear and joins at my opponent's side. Unlike the snake-eyed assassin, the newcomer is not as confident in his stance, but the grip on his weapon is strong.

Snake eyes moves in first, followed shortly by his ally. I quickly parry the swordsman's attack before dodging a thrust from the spear. The dark-haired one is quick, but he is stiff which is opposite of what you want to be with a long ranged weapon. I am easily able to out maneuver him before downing him with a kick to the stomach. Snake eyes gives one final charge causing our steel to meet, but as soon as the blades slip against one another, I give him a nice right hook and send him to the ground after hitting him in the back with my elbow.

Our supervisor laughs aloud before pointing at the novices next to him. "You two boys, get in the arena. If you can beat her in a four versus one match, I will let you call it a day with good marks."

X

The resonating pop of bone echoes through my ears as I pop my nose back into place. Although I had easily beaten my group of boys, the assassin watching over us ended up calling over others to see who had the skill to beat me in a challenge. At first the fights were simple, but after growing tired of endless sparring while each new opponent brought something new to face, I began to falter. Now I am left with a broken nose, a swollen cheek, a displaced shoulder, and I'm positive it is only a bruised rib.

I groan in pain before finally sitting down next to a tree that shaded several of the weapon arenas. As soon as noon struck, we were halted from our training and told to go to the dining halls for lunch. I; however, did not dare to show my face to the rest of the assassins with the way I look.

The crunch of grass snaps me from my thoughts as I look around the field for the source. The place is empty of other novices, but before I could turn around, a leather-gloved hand covers my mouth, muffling my screams. The intruder shushes into my ear as his other arm holds me in place.

"It's me," a familiar husky voice whispers into my ear causing me to stop my thrashing. His hand slowly leaves my mouth but he still refuses to let me go.

"Arno? What the hell are you doing here?" I question as I try to turn towards him, but his arms locks me in place.

"Pretend you are just sitting alone," he continues to speak into my ear, giving me a chill. "Although you can not see them, they are watching."

"That still does not explain why you are here," I retort.

"You and I both know the council will not accept you no matter how well you do in their tests," he replies. "We can leave now and you can continue to stay at the bureau. None of us care about the rank these men think they can give you."

"Then you four will be labeled as traitors."

He huffs. "It honestly would not astound me if they never put the effort in for an investigation."

I smile lightly before placing my hand gently over the one he has on my waist. "As much as I appreciate the concern, this is my battle. Do what you need to at the bureau and I will be home soon. Whether the council likes it or not."

"Are you sure about this?" he asks as his grip tightens.

"Why are you so worried about me?"

He chuckles causing puffs of air to tickle my neck. "It's difficult getting anything done with the others sulking around all the time."

I lie back against him with a smile on my face after hearing him huff. "You are going to have to try harder because I'm not buying the lie," I say.

I hear his breath hitch which means I caught him. "Just come home safe," he whispers with his lips brushing the skin of my ear.

His warmth is gone in an instant and although I search for him afterwards, I can not find the route he would have taken to have disappeared so fast. What the hell was that all about?


	12. Acceptance

**Hey guys!**

**Almost two months away until Assassin's Creed: Unity! Is it just me or is time flying? I think it might be the fact that I have so many ideas for this story, but little time to write it all down. **

**Anyway, thank you guys so much for the support! Your reviews are always greatly appreciated, and I don't know about you guys, but I'm super excited for what I'm about to write in the upcoming chapters.**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 12: Acceptance

Four days of torture lead up to this moment. After the weapon arena, we were moved on to testing our climbing skills before being thrust into a scenario that required stealth to pass. Each of our overseers were impressed, but not easily bought by my abilities. It is their judgment that helps determine the final verdict, and so far I feel as though I've only managed to persuade one of them.

The other novices and I wait patiently in the courtyard of the castle as the military-like Master Assassin enters onto the ramparts above us like he did my first day here. We all stand straighter, but unlike the others, I am more relaxed.

"Today is the last time you will be able to prove that you are ready to become a full-fledged assassin," he announces while eyeing us carefully. "As soon as you receive your target's information, you will go to his last known location and eliminate him by any means necessary."

Sounds like a normal assignment. Was this really the test? I glance at the crowd around me and notice the worry on each of the boys' faces. There are nearly a hundred of us here, but only a select few of us will leave with a new rank.

"Each target will have multiple contracts on him," the man adds. "This is not only about your skill against the enemy, but the speed to take him out. Safety and peace to all of you."

With a salute, we exit the courtyard and head back into the shade of the _forteresse. _The Master Assassins whom supervised our tests search us out one by one, handing a folded coat and a letter with our name on it as they pass. The man who caused me so much trouble at the weapon arena approaches with my cloak while a grin shows off his yellowed teeth. He offers a wink as I take the clothing and gaze at my name scribbled nicely onto the parchment.

"I hope only the best for ya, child," he says. "Alphonse may have been a traitor, but he trained a damn good assassin."

I return the smile. "Thank you."

Without another word, he tips his brown hood and continues down the hall. I take a deep breath as my eyes fall back onto the black fabric in my hands. A new coat for a new beginning. It all feels surreal as I pull the cloak over my shoulders while heading towards the barracks. Supposedly, we each have a week to finish off our target, and if the contract is not complete, you might as well stay gone.

As I enter my shared room, the boys do not even spare a glance as they continue to read about their targets. I merely shake my head as I move towards my bed and grab my things from the chest. If they are giving us this amount of time to finish off one target then I can only assume a few of us are going to take longer than others. Just to stay on the safe side, I grab my entire bag and head towards the door.

"You are leaving already?" a voice calls causing me to turn towards the voice. The snake-eyed boy sits on the edge of his bed with his information lying next to him and his tools unpacked.

"When you've been in the field, you learn that you must always be ready to move at a moments notice," I reply while everyone's attention lands on me. "You should have been packed yesterday."

He stands from the bed, and just when I think he is about to start a fight, he instead extends his arm out. "I was wrong to judge you the way I did. Even if the council does not give you a second chance, I'm glad we met."

I grip my hand with his and we shake. "Safety and peace."

"To you as well."

We let go at the same time before I turn to leave the room. As I march down the nearly vacant corridors, I pry the envelope open with my hidden blade and pull the documents from their container. The first page is a welcoming letter to the final test followed shortly by rules and expectations. I immediately skip the pre-face while exiting the castle and go straight to my target's name.

I do not mean to stop in the middle of my stride, but nothing could prepare me for the information I am reading.

_Last Known Location: Versailles._

_Occupation: Templar associate_

_Mission Objective: Find and kill Lady Élise de la Serre. _

X

Without the aid of a horse or passing wagons, it takes me several hours to reach the countryside _châteaus_ that surround the outskirts of Versailles. Just the air alone in this city screamed of nobility as I pass the gardens and orchids to my location. This place reminds me of my family's _palais _back when I was a child, but these homes were far more elegant compared to the modesty of the one I used to live in.

Élise's manor is significantly larger than what I expected, but it does not even compare to her neighbor's. I stare at the enormous structure and feel the overwhelming dread hit my stomach like a _bâton. _What was I going to do? Although I am not fond of her heritage and her choice to accept it, she is still someone whom, like me, does not tolerate corruption and wants to help the people. Am I really willing to go through with this?

Examining the compound, my eyes direct a route through the _jardin, _up the side of the _bâtiment, _and through the double doors of the balcony. I've never actually been inside the _château _before, so once inside, I would have to move quickly if I wanted to stay out of sight. Following the pre-meditated path, I quickly enter the building and take cover behind a statue right as a servant passes. The hour may be late, but the house still seems bustling with activity.

As soon as the coast is clear, I immediately maneuver quietly down the hall until I believe I've found the master bedroom. I enter without a sound before locking the door behind me. My stomach leaps at the sound of movement in the bathroom causing me to slide in between the wall and a towering cabinet as someone exits into the _chambre. _

Slowly peeking at the person, I notice the damp red hair of Élise; however, she has yet to dress from her bath, leaving her in the nude. Although embarrassing, it is the best opportunity to kill her while she is still vulnerable, but I can not help the hesitance I feel about the situation. This feels all too easy, and that is not how I want this to end.

"Must be nice to bathe after a nice, long day," I say as I exit my hiding spot. The woman jumps out of fright, wraps herself with the blanket from her bed before pivoting on her heel to glare at me.

"What the hell are you doing here, assassin?" she questions as her eyes shift to the dagger on her nightstand.

I hold my hands up as a sign of peace, but she is still tense. "We need to talk," I reply.

"Now?" she asks before ushering at her barely covered form. "If you haven't noticed, I am a bit underdressed."

"Then get dressed," I retort as I find a seat in a lush chair next to the window. "I can wait."

Her glare intensifies, but she eventually huffs while grabbing an evening gown and storming back into the bathroom. I do not wait long before she re-enters the bedroom and signals for me to follow her into the corridors. We remain silent as we pass maids and servants on our way down the main staircase and into the large study that awaits on the left wing of the building.

A bookcase covers the entire right wall while a window shows the garden on the left. Scruff marks on the floor indicate a former desk at the end of the room, but now a small circular table takes its place with two chairs at each side. I follow Élise's example and sit in one of the _chaise _as she calls a maid to bring us tea.

"Seems a little late for so many servants to be running around, don't you think?" I inquire, but the red-head gives me a glare.

"Why are you here?" she asks.

I sigh as I slightly slouch in the chair. "There is a contract for your blood."

"So you are here to kill me?" she questions with a light voice. I know she has a blade tucked beneath her gown just in case I were to strike, or if she decides to do it first.

I shake my head before tucking my bangs behind my ear. "Although I would not consider our positions agreeable, you are only a Templar by association. That is not a crime."

She presses her lips together into a thin line while observing me closely. "If you let me live, what does that make you in the eyes of your masters?"

I shrug. "I'm not even grand enough to be called dirt. What is lower than that?"

The tension in her shoulders relax, but she still seems wary. "If these so called leaders of yours treat you so badly, why not leave them? I'm sure your skills would be better elsewhere."

"If you are referring to the Templars, then you are wasting your breath," I say as our eyes meet. "I may not rightfully be an assassin, but my values hold no place in your order."

The door to the study slowly opens as a maid carries a silver platter into the room with a porcelain teapot and matching cups on top. Before the woman could begin to pour our tea, Élise ushers her out of the _chambre_, leaving us alone once again. We both remain quiet as we both fill our own cup and sip on the hot liquid. It really is refreshing after such a long day's travel.

"So what do you plan on doing now?" Élise questions.

I spent the entire journey here deep in thought about this entire scenario. I did not want to kill her, but not doing so and running away from the Brotherhood would have me killed by the end of the week. There were also my brothers I have left behind in Paris that were waiting for my return. Leaving them would be like losing what is left of my family.

"I'm not sure," I reply truthfully. "I may not like the Templars, but I am not wanted by the assassin council either. I question if an order is truly needed to keep the peace or if we are just kidding ourselves."

Our eyes meet and she smiles lightly. "Remember when we first met? When you ran out in front of my horse while chasing a dog?"

I smile as I lower my attention to the teacup in my hands. "You fell off and broke your leg while I was trampled and broke an arm."

"We spent an entire summer in my uncle's _maison _playing cards and tying objects to the cat's tail," the red-head reminiscences. "There were no ideals to live by nor a creed we had to follow. It was just us getting into trouble together."

I chuckle at the memories. "Did you ever tell your adoptive "brother" how you felt about him?"

A dark red hue spreads across her cheeks as she chokes on her drink. I laugh even louder as she wipes the tea from her mouth while sending me a glare. "I can not believe you remember that conversation," she remarks.

"The way you spoke about him, it sounded like you were in love," I retort.

She does not have the courage to look me in the eye, but instead finds interest in the fabric of her gown's sleeve. "Although we felt the same for each other, nothing ever flourished. Father was too worried about my studies that I never had time to spend it here with my family."

"At least you still have your brother," I say with a sad smile.

She nods lightly. "If only I knew where he ran off to."

It must feel terrible to have family that you love, but they never come home to visit. In a sense, I would prefer that life compared to the one I have lived. To know that my father was alive but a few miles away would make each day just a bit more enduring; however, I was not so lucky.

Sighing heavily, I place the cup back on the silver platter before standing from the chair. "I do no mean to be rude, but I think it is time I take my leave. I have much to think about and little time to do so."

Élise stands and follows me to the _palais _entrance. "If this situation of yours does not work out like you plan, you are always welcome here. I'm sure that despite our…objectives, we can find a mutual respect for one another. Just like when we were younger."

As a servant hurries to open the door, I glance back at the red-head and smile. "Thank you…and stay safe. There will be others coming to claim that contract."

She merely smirks. "I think you forget who you are talking to." I offer one last grin as I turn to leave, but a tug on my sleeve stops me. "Before you go, I found that information on Sauveterre."

I glance back at her with wide eyes. "I thought you were going to give that to me upon our deal."

She scoffs. "Even if I did not make the offer, you would have had those corrupted Templars silenced eventually. Nonetheless, _Monsieur _Sauveterre was indeed killed by an outside source. There are a few records within the new order that say a couple of men were paid to stir a riot that eventually lead to the chaos that destroyed the _palais_."

"Is there any information on who wanted him dead?" I ask with a light tremble in my voice.

Élise shakes her head. "No, but the name of the faction for hire was listed: the Jacobins."

My eyes narrow as I grit my teeth together. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"Don't do anything stupid," the red-head pleads before offering me a smile. "If you really want revenge for your father's death, do so strategically."

Our eyes lock and I know she has it all figured out. Piecing together the puzzle must have been easy as soon as she got her hands on the information, but how much of the situation was she leaving out?

"Is that all?" I ask.

She nods. "There was not much to be found. The order was furious about his decline to rejoin, especially since they could not use his daughter, Nicole, against him."

I shake my head. "Do tell me you rid of the documents?"

"Burnt to ashes."

"Good. I do not want that name appearing anywhere else," I say as I take a few steps out into the night air before turning back to look at Élise. "Safety and peace."

She salutes with her fist over her heart. "May the Father of Understanding guide you."

X

Although I had a dreadful feeling at the bottom of my gut, I still made the six hour trip back to the Brotherhood's main headquarters outside of Paris. Some of the boys whom still had yet to leave were stuck in confusion as I pass them by on my way directly to the council's chamber. Without so much of a care on their view of this matter, I slam open the doors and march up to the four chairs that rise above me. They each appear shocked, but as soon as their eyes land on me, they immediately begin seething.

"What is the meaning of this?" the farthest to the left calls as they all sit upright. "You have not been summoned!"

"I want to know why my target is an innocent woman," I demand as I glare at each one of them. They glance between one another as though communicating telepathically before turning back to me.

"None of the people listed are innocent," the next council man explains. "Each were chosen because of their sins."

"What sin?" I question. "Being an associate because her father was a Templar? She holds no blood on her hands, and who is to say that she will in the future?"

"Stay your tongue, girl!" the man on the far right cries.

"Why? Because my logic is correct?"

"Because you do not understand!" he retorts

I scoff. "Understand what? That you can not let any Templars live so long as they are a potential threat to your power?"

They each are now on the verge of vaulting over the balcony and striking me where I stand, but I do not show the fear that courses through my veins. If I was going to die today, I might as well do it bravely while standing against the meager minds of the Brotherhood leaders.

"Baudin! Lavoie! Escort the girl out of here and cut out her tongue! Make sure she can never speak again before you throw her back onto the streets!"

The two assassins that always await at the entrance to the _chambre _move towards me as I take a step back. Adrenaline is now pumping through my system as I glance back and forth between the men. They are both considered Masters, which means I will not last long in a fight. I'm going to have to think quickly if I wanted to get out of here with my ability to speak.

"You will not harm the woman!" a mysterious voice announces causing everyone in the room to stop and stare at the new face to enter. With his white hood already lowered, I gaze at the dark-skinned newcomer as his deep brown eyes lock onto my own. His face is weather beaten, but his smile is warm and welcoming despite his tall, muscular stature.

"_Monsieur _Kenway," the elders each call as they bow respectively. "We did not expect you so soon."

His attention turns towards the council men with anger evident on his features. "What is the meaning of this? She brings forth logic and you dismiss it?"

"You must forgive our rash decisions," one of the men replies in broken English. "But she is-"

"There are no excuses for this behavior!" the man, Kenway, retorts. It has been so long since I've practiced the English language that I have to concentrate on the words individually to understand what they are saying.

"_Mais, Monsieur-"_

"When you tear out a man's tongue, you are not proving him a liar, you're only telling the world that you fear what he might say." With that said, the council immediately becomes silent while exchanging glances between one another. Whomever this guy is, they initially fear him; which means I should as well.

The man slowly approaches my location until I can clearly see the light freckles that dot his cheek bones. "My name is Conner," he introduces while extending his large arm out. "If you would come with me, your assistance will be graciously needed elsewhere."


	13. Connor

**Hey guys!**

**I know the chapter is late, and I am honestly sorry that I could not have put it up on the weekend like I wanted to, but I ended up going on vacation and then I got sick. Once again: I am sorry.**

**News Updates:**

**1) AC:U has been pushed back and will not be released until November 11****th****(U.S. date) which means I will extend the end of the story to that date. **

**2) The Arno POV story is being placed on hold at the moment until I have the time to actually work on both of these stories at once. Sorry is you were excited to read it. **

**Anyway, enjoy.**

Chapter 13: Connor

I'm too terrified to do anything but follow the dark-skinned man out of the council men's chamber and into the corridors of the _forteresse. _This man, Connor, towers over each of the assassins we pass causing my mind to flutter with questions about his place of origin. It is evident in his speech that English is not his first language, but he is not part of any other race I've seen before. His white coat matches those worn by the British Brotherhood, but his hide boots and bow indicate tribal nature. Is he a native from the colonies?

As we exit the bureau, his dark eyes land on me as we stop in our tracks. My heart pounds loudly in my chest as he studies my form carefully, but the icy chill of fear prevents me from speaking.

"What is your name?" he asks in a soft tone that does not match his brute form.

The words scramble in my head as I try to process how to respond. The English language has always been a difficult subject to learn, and very few of us here in the order have been able to master just the basics. I was not one of them. It also does not help that I am intimidated by the man asking all the questions.

"My…name…is Nicole," I reply awkwardly. He does not seem bothered by my choppy sentence, but instead smiles lightly.

"I need your help," he says slowly while annunciating each word. "I'm looking for a man. His name is Lafayette."

"Marquis de Lafayette?" I ask after only catching the name.

He nods. "He has asked for my aid in Paris." Connor gazes back at the entrance to the bureau with a hard look in his eyes. "It seems your Parliament and Kings are not the only ones corrupted."

I only understand a few of the words, but I guess the gist of what he is saying. He too sees the problems still lingering within our Brotherhood, which means he will also be wary towards their behavior and trust. I can not help but question who this man is. Fear is an understatement to how the council appeared when they laid eyes on him. Evidently this Connor Kenway must be someone of great importance if they refuse to argue with him about my fate; otherwise, I would be dead by now.

"Why…how they… know you?" I ask causing him to tilt his head in confusion until he understands my sloppy speech.

"When I agreed to come to France, your masters asked that I visit. They may have wanted a formal introduction," he replies, but the words pass over my head before I could finish the translation.

I really need to brush up on my English…

"You…want me…_en Paris avec vous?"_ I question out of curiosity as I remember the earlier events.

"I need someone I can trust," he says as his sharp gaze pierces through me. "You have much knowledge, but little room to speak. If these men will not listen then I shall."

I smile although I am not sure what he means. Connor, despite his looks, seems like a gentle giant, but most likely deadly when provoked. The council respects him, but at the same time fears what he capable of, so what do I do? He saved me from losing what little I have left, but at the same time, I feel as though I have a target painted on the back of my coat. I guess as soon as I lead him to Lafayette, I can return home where my brothers will welcome me back whether or not I still have a rank within the order. It is a long shot, but its all I have besides Élise.

"_Allons-y," _I say as I usher with my hand towards the main road. "We go to Marquis."

X

Although the road to Paris is a short travel from the main headquarters, the trip felt longer as Connor and I attempted to find a communication we could both understand. He is able to comprehend a few of the words I say which he says he learned from a member of his Brotherhood back in the colonies, but there is still a large gap in our translations. After realizing that our conversations were going to get us no where, we eventually began working on hand signals to clear the confusion.

I sigh with relief as the buildings of France's capital becomes visible from beyond the horizon. Although the city is packed with sins that not even a God could forgive, this is still my home, and it felt amazing to see it again. I smile at Connor while motioning for him to follow closely as we mingle into the crowded streets. The dark-skinned man seems tense and uncomfortable as he tries his best not to bump into anyone, but his attempts were useless. I guess the cities in the colonies must be very open for movement if his behavior is like this.

Grabbing him by the sleeve of his coat, I lead him to the edge of a building and motion for him to climb. As soon as we are on the roof, we move quickly across the tiles and vault over the gaps separating the homes. Paris may be large, but for the two of us, moving across the vast world is almost as quick as flying. As we continue towards our destination, I can not help but glance back every so often to observe my companion's movements.

Although he is having trouble locating the smaller indents to make climbing much easier, his overall capabilities are flawless. He runs like a _loup_, but flies like an _aigle_. I am almost anxious to see him fight. What would that be like? He appears powerful like Tristan, but is tall and lean like Arno. He is fast, that I can see for myself, but is he strong?

The _jardins _of Tuileries are unusually brown this time of year due to the drought that has haunted France. The patrol that used to be in abundance had turned against their oaths and now march with the people instead of standing for the King. Waltzing up to the gate is almost hassle free until we reach the main entrance where four guards stop us on sight. Connor and I share a glance before I take a step forward.

"We request an audience with Marquis de Lafayette," I announce, but the uniformed men do not sheath their swords. "This man has an invitation if you would like to read it."

"The Marquis is not in Paris," one of them says. "He left earlier this week on urgent business."

I frown as my eyes flicker between them. "Do you know where he went?"

"No. Now piss off!"

Connor grabs a hold of my arm before I could 'persuade' the men to give me the information. The foreigner gives a hard stare as he nods his head at the surrounding area. The patrolling guards are now eyeing us warily while their hands tense on the leather straps of their rifles. My companion may want to avoid a fight, but I am itching to punch something. Maybe the council dug a little too deep into my skin.

"Fine," I mutter as I shake the hand from my arm.

"Where is he?" Connor questions as we exit the perimeter of the palace and onto _Rue de Rivoli. _

"He…no there," I answer while examining the area. "No in Paris."

The dark-skinned male releases a heavy breath while crossing his arms over his chest. "Did they say where he is staying?"

I shrug out of habit, not really knowing what he is asking. Oliver is almost fluent in English, and I am sure the assassin will need a place to stay until we can locate the Marquis. I guess we would be killing two birds with one stone if we head to the _Paroisse Saint-Eustache _and get help from my brothers. The flutter in my stomach warns me against something, but I can not see anything going wrong with the idea except Tristan harassing Connor for answers. Ignoring the sensation, I turn towards my companion and smile lightly.

"We go…bureau _pour aider," _I roughly translate earning a confused nod.

He does not question it further, but follows me through the Parisian Markets before we take a detour through _les jardins du Palais Royal. _Our shoulders collide with the citizens as we venture further into the shopping and entertainment complex, but we pay no mind to their angry calls of aggression. As soon as the sight of the first building can be seen from the edge of the garden, I rush at it and scale the architecture in a hurried pace. Connor's heavy form can be heard beneath me, granting me access to climb faster until I reach the rooftop.

Beyond the three blocks worth of buildings, the bureau calls like a beacon amongst the landscape. A smile twitches at the corners of my lips as I imagine the look on my brothers' faces when they see me again. The foreigner joins at my side at last and studies the area to memorize his surroundings. I point to the church and signal for him to follow, but he grabs my arm before we can continue.

"Are you sure those waiting inside are our allies?" Connor asks as our eyes meet. "I want to avoid having your masters know my location for the time being."

Again, the words pass over my head while the translations are lost. "They…help," I say as I give him a reassuring smile. I hope my answer matches his question. He does not reply, but I can see the nearly invisible frown on his lower lip. His grip loosens, and although he is tense, he still accompanies me as I advance towards the bureau.

The butterflies are extra jumpy as I stare at the door the church. On the other side of the wood are my four comrades whom I have not seen since the council stripped me of my rank. When Arno had snuck into the main headquarters to bring me back home, he said they would welcome me with open arms, but how do I know they will do that? Ranks are what define us in the Brotherhood, and without one, everyone looks away. Although I know they love me, are they really willing to defy our masters for my sake?

"Is something wrong?" Connor asks as he joins at my side.

I shake my head while gazing into his soft brown eyes. "They are…. _mes amis_."

Grabbing the iron handle, I push open the door and the two of us march inside with confidence. The building seems almost too quiet as my companion and I gaze around the stable and chancel section of the building. I know it's been like this before, but the complete silence is almost unbearable upon knowing the recent events that happened here. Just as I am about to move towards the barrack section of the church, I am stopped by the faint tap of footsteps nearing our location. Connor readies his hand on his cutlass, but I motion for him to ease as soon as my eyes land the figure entering the room.

With his top half missing its clothes, Arno arrives only in his breeches while his dark hair flows freely from its ribbon and covers his bare shoulders and back. His honey eyes are glued to the book in his hands as his steps are calculated to avoid obstacles on his way to the training dummies set up in the center of the room. Clearing my throat, Dorian's attention finally snaps our direction nearly causing him to drop his novel.

Tossing my bag to the ground, I dash over to the assassin and tackle him with a hug while burying my head into his chest. I hear his book hit a pew before his arms wrap around my shoulder and waist. He smells like an orchid and sweat; mostly sweat, but I don't care. It's just nice to know I'm home.

"The council gave back your rank?" Arno questions as he pulls us apart.

"Not exactly," I reply as our eyes meet. "I'll explain the whole story later, but for now we have something else we need to do."

Dorian and I turn to gaze at Connor whom my comrade had yet to notice. Arno straightens his posture as the two examine one another before the dark-skinned man approaches our location. He extends his arm and the two of them shake with a firm grip.

"Connor," the foreigner introduces as they let go.

"Arno," my comrade responds. "You must be from the colonies."

My eyes widen at the fluent nature of Dorian's speech. "You speak English?"

He merely smiles my way before turning back towards Connor. "What brings you to France? I have never heard of a native leaving his home…willingly."

"Lafayette has asked that I come to Paris to aid in this revolution," the dark-skinned man responds although he refuses to release the tension from his shoulders. "Not only has your government lost control of its people, but there is talk of Templars using this war to turn the tides in their favor."

Arno gives a look of skepticism. "We already know this, and so far, all we have been doing is trying to fix it. Why would the Marquis contact a member of the Brotherhood from across the world just to regain control of a few rioters?"

"If we do not fix this problem now, it will fester, and you will not be able to remedy the solution."

I glance between the two assassins as the hostility in the air thickens. "Arno?" I ask as my attention lands on my comrade, but he refuses to turn away from the foreigner. "What are you saying to him?"

"Nicole?!"

The three of us lose focus as Zacharie, Tristan and Oliver enter the chancel from the stables. Completely forgetting about the situation, I grin wildly as I rush towards my brothers and meet my blue-cloaked friend half-way. He instantly picks me up off the ground in a ferocious hug before Tristan steals me away and receives one for himself. Oliver and I share a nod both knowing our physical interactions were a bit… awkward.

"You won the council over?" Zacharie asks as we all huddle together like we used to.

"Not exactly," I repeat for the second time as I look at each of them carefully. They all appear exhausted and their clothes look weather-beaten as though they have been out on an assignment for the entire week. "What the hell happened to you three?"

"The citizens are taking the countryside and destroying everything that belongs to the church and clergy," Tristan replies. "The council wanted them quelled, but it was hard to accomplish when we were forced to run into the fire."

"Did you succeed?"

"Somewhat," Zacharie replies causing them each to turn their attentions away.

Tristan does a double take as soon as his gaze falls in line with Connor's waiting form and points toward the Master Assassin. "Who are you?" he questions as he moves toward the foreigner.

"He does not speak French," Arno states while making eye contact with Tristan.

"Who is he then?" our colleague asks as his eyes examine the newcomer.

"His name is Connor," I speak up. "He is an assassin from the colonies and is here to talk to the Marquis de Lafayette."

"And you believe him?" he asks as he turns towards me with a sharp gaze.

"Of course I do," I retort while returning the glare. "The council summoned him to their headquarters, and he saved my life! The least we can do is help him."

Tristan bites the inside of his cheek before storming towards the barracks, but does not disappear without first knocking over a stack of crates out of rage. Zacharie's brown eyes flicker between the four of us before he silently follows our comrade's trail out of the chancel.

Sighing heavily, I turn towards Oliver and offer a light smile. "Can you get this sorted out while we handle the others?"

Our green-cloaked companion nods, but offers nothing to say. Knowing he had the situation under control from here, I grab Dorian by the wrist and drag him behind the altar and into our leader's former study. The memories of this place tug at my heart strings, but I do not let the pain show as I turn my attention to the half-clothed man. His face is stoic; however, his eyes tell a complete other story.

"Worried I wasn't coming home?" I ask to break the ice.

Arno crosses his arms over his chest while sighing. "You can not imagine the stories your colleagues were telling the entire time you were gone."

I smile lightly. "They worry too much."

Those honey irises dance back and forth as he examines my beaten form. "Do you mind filling in the details now? I'm quite curious to know what happened."

"Where do I start?" I ask as I sit in my mentor's former chair.

Arno takes a seat across from me before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "What happened after the first day?"

I swallow down my anxiety before meeting his gaze. "We went on with our novice training as every assassin does until yesterday morning when I was given the name of my target. Mine was a woman, a Templar associate with no blood on her hands, only a title. I told the council I was not about to kill an innocent human being and they wanted to cut out my tongue."

"The council was willing to go to such measures for refusing their assignment?" Arno questions as his nose crinkles out of anger.

"Like I said before: they love their old ways."

"That's when 'he' shows up?" Dorian gestures towards the door and I nod.

"They know who he is, and they respect him. I've never seen them so afraid of one man before in my life."

The assassin genuinely smiles as he lowers his eyes to look at his cupped hands. "Good to know he also disagrees with their ideals."

"Yeah, me too," I say as I stand from the chair and stretch my aching muscles.

Arno stands with me, but his eyes do not leave my form. "While Oliver sorts this mess with Connor, what will we be doing to calm Tristan?"

"Leave that to me," I reply. "I'm special enough to be a soft spot."

He faintly chuckles, and without warning, his arms wrap around my shoulder and waist while his face burrows into my messy hair. My body tenses while my arms are raised a few inches from his body out of shock. Not really sure what to make of the sudden intrusion of my personal space, I awkwardly hug back, but with little to no force unlike Arno's grip.

"Uhm…Dorian?" I question, but his brace only tightens.

"Welcome home," he whispers in a husky voice that tickles the top of my ear.

With my cheeks burning from the situation, I bind my arms tighter against his naked torso and breathe in his scent. He smells just like apples and morning dew…just like an orchid. Closing my eyes, I relax into his arms and let the week's worries fade from my mind.


	14. A New Way

**Hey guys, I've got an amazing(I hope) new chapter for you.**

**I'm sorry for the poor lack of editing that I've been putting out and it makes rereading old chapters hard because I just want to slap myself. I should probably get an editor, but I don't know….**

**Anyway, story ideas! I will make the Arno POV at some point, but I just recently created an EdwardxOC story that I'm still debating whether I should post as a one-shot or save it for a later time as a full-fledged story. If you want to have an input on that decision, please speak up. I'm terrible at making choices. **

**One more thing: this is a M-rated story for a reason, but I am debating something: lemon or lime? I usually do not like making explicit things out of fear of reader discomfort, but I'm curious to what you guys think.**

**Now you may enjoy. **

Chapter 14: A New Way

The familiar seer of heat kisses my cheek as Connor's blade barely brushes against my skin. I swing my cutlass downward until steel meets steel before throwing a right hook at his chin. The foreigner is quick to catch my hand and thrusts his forehead against mine, knocking my smaller form to the ground. Thick, warm liquid flows freely down my face, but I ignore it as I shakily get back up on my feet.

The dark-skinned man gives me a look over before lowering his weapon and sheathing it. "That is enough for today," he announces as he approaches my swaying figure.

"Not yet," I mutter, but he grabs the blade from my hand.

"We've been training too long. You need to rest," he states while tossing the weapon aside and picking me up off the ground.

I want to protest; however, my body has no strength left to fight. I let him carry me out of the chancel and into the northern section of the building where my bed awaits in my private _chambre. _Unlike his behavior during our training, Connor is gentle when setting me down and is kind enough to pull my blanket over my tired form before leaving the room. Resting is the last thing I want to do right now, but my muscles scream in agony with every movement.

For the past several weeks, we have searched for the Marquis, but his involvement with the growing complications across France has him moving so often that we are unable to keep up. Connor, for the mean time, has chosen to stay with us despite his want to locate Lafayette. He is an amazing mentor, something I thought I knew about Alphonse, but the foreigner has him beat. He knows when strength is needed in battle and when it better to quicker rather than stronger. He is the perfect example of a Master Assassin; something I did not witness at the main headquarters, and upon facing the man myself, I now know why the council fear him so much.

Connor is a free human being in both body and mind. His thoughts and ideology are his own, and he does not accept being told what to think unless he actually sees logic in the reasoning. He once told me during training that the body is not free unless the mind is first. To let your ideas be shackled means you have already given up your freedom, and in order to be an assassin, you must not let that happen.

_Nothing is true. _

I can not let anyone control me ever again; there is no longer wool covering my eyes. Alphonse's betrayal and the council's need to stay in power made me see what was truly going on in our Brotherhood. We are no better than the Templars when it comes to corruption, and it may be time to bring a revolution into our order.

_Everything is permitted_.

I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of my door opening as Arno enters my room. Both his dark blue cloak and white waistcoat were missing leaving him in his white undershirt and black breeches. He gives a light smile as he sits down next to me on the mattress while leaning his back against the wall for support. Dorian's fingers sweep across my face as he moves the stray pieces of hair behind my ear while his eyes observe my new injuries of the day.

"You need to slow down," he states in a low voice. "Maybe we should skip this evening's lessons so you can get some rest."

"No," I reply in a stern tone causing him to frown. "I will be fine."

"What's gotten into you lately?" he questions while removing his hand. "You've been distant since you returned and we all know you are not sleeping at night."

It's my turn to frown as I try to sit up to look at him, but my body does not have the vigor to push myself up. Arno merely shakes his head before standing from the bed and grabbing the bowl of water off of my nightstand. He's been keeping one there since Connor agreed to train me knowing that I will always end up a bloody mess by the end of the day. I know he and the others are worried about me, but I was not going to get stronger if they were always doing the work around here.

I hiss at the light dab of cloth against the wounds on my forehead, but Arno does not let up the pressure. His eyes are calculating as he cleans the dried blood away and examines the acuteness of the cuts. "Is there something bothering you?" he asks in a light voice.

I find it difficult to meet his gaze, so I choose to stare at the ceiling instead. "What made you join the assassins?" I ask causing him to stop his movements. I finally turn towards him to see his cautious stare before he maneuvers to rewet the rag. "You said it was a story for another time."

"And now isn't the time," he replies in a hard tone.

"Is that always going to be the answer?"

Arno's brow furrows as his stare becomes grim. The edge of his bottom lip faintly curls downward as he places the piece of cloth back in the bowl before turning his full attention towards me. "A deal then?" he asks.

"A deal?" I question out of confusion.

He nods. "If you can spend the entire day tomorrow without training or studying, I will treat you to dinner and then we can…talk about it…promise?"

I give him a look of skepticism while observing his behavior. His eyes are not dilated, his breath is regular, and there is no sign of him fidgeting. He's not lying, but I still don't know if he is going to go through with his word. Well, he has never let me down before, but there is always a first for everything.

"Fine," I say with curiosity taking control. "Promise…but we are still going through with the lessons tonight."

He rolls his eyes, but a smile replaces his frown as he reaches back to grab the cloth off the nightstand. This time he is not so gentle when applying it to my skin causing me to flinch out of pain. "Very well, we will start with something easy then," he states. "In English, name fifteen items we have in this building."

X

No matter what I do, I can not stop my leg from bouncing up and down as I watch Tristan and Zacharie spar with one another. The need to do something productive itches at the back of my mind, but the deal I made with Arno forces me to take a heavy breath every time the idea pops up. Dorian says he wants this to be a relaxing day for me, but not doing anything only makes me more tense.

My eyes fall on the foreigner whom is busy sharpening his cutlass with a whetstone while he speaks with Oliver. The green-cloaked assassin keeps his nose buried in a book the entire conversation, but glances up from time to time when something Connor says interests him.

Ugh, I wish this day would end already.

Not wanting to spend another moment sitting around, I stand from the pew and march towards the stables. If I can not train or study, I might as well go for a walk. The crisp October air nips at my coatless form as I exit the building and make my journey down _le rue _and to where ever my feet decide to take me.

If I wasn't so anxious to get to know Arno, the deal would have never happened. That man, even after knowing him for an entire year, is still an enigma to me. I know his fighting style, his favorite drink, where he likes to hide when he can not sleep, and that he will cheat at cards when given the chance. However, even with that knowledge, he is just a mystery. It is hard to determine what he is thinking and what he likes to think about, or if he is thinking about someone.

I shake my head while chuckling to myself. The idea alone of Arno liking a woman is almost too humorous to think about. Although he is an excellent flirt, any intimate action directed towards him turns the assassin into a shy teenager. I'm curious if he has ever been with a woman before, and if so, how well did that relationship go?

Sighing heavily, I know why the thought haunts my mind so feverishly. Through all the fits of denial, I can admit to having a _small _crush on Dorian, but that's all it is: a crush. Love is too strong of a word to describe the butterflies I get when he is around, but I am also not myself when he subconsciously toys with me. I'll be glad when the feelings pass and our relationship will just be a normal thing like with my other comrades.

Taking in my surroundings, my brow furrows as I try to figure out where I am. There are no distinguishable landmarks within the vicinity causing me to question where the hell I am going. Climbing the nearest building, I observe the city around me until I spot the assassin bureau in the distance. I am only a few blocks away, but the world around me almost seems completely different from what I remember.

Have I really not been paying attention to how much Paris has changed in the past few months?

Unlike the flourishing feeling that the city used to hold, the streets now feel empty and dead as though they have been abandoned. A slum-like stench now lingers in the air and the majority of food shops are now either empty or boarded up to prevent theft. Not even the homeless loiter outside of the buildings knowing that this part of the city is hopeless to repair. If this is how we are holding up, I can only imagine what the rest of Paris looks like.

In a hurried pace, I leap from the roof and use former sign posts to slow my decent until I am back on the street. Not wanting to return back to the church just yet, I continue to head in the opposite direction while my thoughts take over. What were the assassins doing if we are not stopping the corruption? Did we even have a purpose anymore?

Paris' new scenery speaks a different tale than the lie I repeat in my head. How long did I plan to stay in this state of denial while the city continues to crumble beneath itself? Although Connor's stay within our bureau has helped me become stronger and more aware, standing idly by while we search for the Marquis is not helping the turmoil we need to face.

I clench my fists as I try to maintain my anger. Maybe instead of training, I should be directing my attention to more pressing matters. It wasn't like I was retrieving orders from the council like the rest of my brothers. I should be using this new found freedom for something more useful, but where should I start?

Élise spoke of the 'new' order being established within the Templars and how they wish to corrode the city until it is time to claim it once again. Those men were the true threat right now; however, I can not fight them alone. I also can not reveal this information to my comrades out of fear that they will discover my 'friendship' with a Templar, but without them, I will be easily defeated by the sheer number of factions under their control.

So what now?

The sight of the _St-Gervais-et-St-Protais _church warns me that I have traveled too far from my home, but I just want to keep walking. Returning to the bureau would mean being bored once more while I await the hour when Arno decides to whisk me off to where ever he plans on having dinner. The last thing I want to do right now is sit down and watch others work.

A sudden chill races down my spine causing me to stop and observe the citizens around me. Just like any other dreary day, the people show signs of stress and fatigue as winter slowly approaches. Thunder crackles in the distance provoking several of the patrons to hurry on their way while the dark clouds collect above us. I sigh knowing that I have no choice now but to return home before the rain starts. Just my luck.

Reluctantly, I turn back and head home with a slump in my shoulders.

"Excuse me?" a male voice calls causing me to stop and stare at the approaching man. He wears a dirtied, black coat that is buttoned up all the way to avoid the evening cold while his tri-corn hat covers his greasy hair. He reeks of alcohol, but the rash on his left cheek is more revolting than the stench. "What's your name?"

I wrinkle my nose while taking a large step back to keep some distance between us. My need to leave the bureau in a rush leaves me with no hidden blade or cutlass to defend myself with if the situation should call for it. "Does it matter?" I question while noticing the dagger on his belt.

"You are that girl…uh…Sauveterre?" he slurs making my eyes widen. No one should know that name, so where did he hear it?

I catch subtle movement out of the corner of my eye as men surround me while maintaining a distance. They will not dare attack me in the middle of the street, especially during the day, but they might not be that bright. "I think you have the wrong person," I retort while steadying my breaths.

"No, no," he mutters while examining my form. "You are the exact description that man gave. You know how much he is offering for your safe return?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I question as the men draw closer.

He gives a toothy grin. "Don't ya know? There is a reward for the person who brings you home safely."

His grubby hands make an attempt to snatch my shirt, but I am quicker as I dodge and break through an opening in the circle. Their heavy footsteps echo loudly off the buildings as I shove pass citizens and race down an empty alleyway and into the parallel street. Thinking quickly, I rush into the nearest open door, up the flight of stairs and out the window on the second floor. I hear the man shout orders at his companions, but none of them can keep up as I lose them on the rooftops.

As soon as I know that I have lost their line of sight, I drop into an alleyway and catch my breath behind the safety of a stack of crates. My hands shake as they press against my knees while my back arches for air. How the hell did they know my name and who has a bounty for my capture? The only people who know who I am are Élise and….Robespierre.

Crap.

Why would the lawyer want me to be returned to him safely? Also, how did he manage to get the factions involved? If I am not mistaken, those men were wearing the same symbol as the boys in the '89 Club, so that meant that Robespierre is now becoming involved with those power hungry vultures. I should get back to the bureau before more come looking.

Taking a deep breath, I search the surrounding area before exiting my hiding spot and making my quick journey back home.

X

Upon arriving home, I did not expect Arno to be waiting for me the moment I open the door. He is currently distracted as he sits on a hay bale next to a stable while his favorite horse knocks its nose against the side of Dorian's head when he quits petting him. Honey eyes meet mine as I approach with a smile on my face.

"How long have you been back?" I ask as the horse nudges Arno once more.

"According to the others, I returned just as soon as you left," he replies while standing.

"Oh," I say, but he just gives a smile.

"I hope you have not broken our promise."

"I kept to the deal, now it's your turn to fulfill."

Dorian's grin grows as he ushers towards the barracks. "You may want to grab your coat. It might get chilly."

I roll my eyes while a grin tugs at the corner of my lips. I hurry pass the assassins on my way to my room, dress in my black cloak, and quickly return to the waiting man in the stables. As we exit the church, Arno offers his arm and I reluctantly take it. The two of us do not share many words as Dorian leads us south, across _La Seine_, and to a place I thought I would never have the pleasure to visit.

The _Palais du Luxembourg _used to be a grand mansion built for Marie de Médicis, but ever since the revolution began, it has been refurbished as a legislative building. I wanted to see this place back when the chapel was still in the _jardin, _and the paintings done by Rubens were still in the gallery. My mind races as it wonders what my comrade has in mind for this dinner.

Arno breaks our contact and ushers to follow him towards the garden. I do so obediently as we circle the building, cross the perimeter without the guards noticing, and scale the backside of the architecture. The statues surrounding the framework seem to watch as the assassin helps me up onto the roof while the first drops of rain hit our coats. The two of us do not linger in the open for long before climbing the rest of the dome and take shelter under the pillars at the top.

"What do you think?" Arno asks as he lowers his hood and points at the _jardin _that stretches across the landscape.

"Impressive," I mutter while my eyes scan everything. "I'm amazed you thought of this place."

"I can not determine if you are complimenting or insulting me," he says with a playful pout on his lips.

"I'm impressed," I reiterate.

I also lower my hood before the two of us find a seat on the stone platform while the rain gradually becomes heavier. Dorian pulls the wood woven basket he had stored away up here earlier today and opens it to reveal the contents inside. Instead of just bread, there is also a small cheese wheel, a bottle of wine, and sausage.

"Is that actual meat?" I question as I look at the wrapped package.

"I thought you would appreciate it," Arno winks while separating the food.

"It's been so long," I say as I bite into the juicy texture upon receiving it from the assassin. I moan in delight which earns a laugh from my comrade. "_Tais-toi!" _I mutter before continuing to eat.

"Has it really been that long?"

"You have no idea." I finally gaze at Dorian whom is too busy staring at me to eat his own food. "What?"

"Nothing," he remarks before finally taking a bite of his bread.

"Anyway," I start while moving to pour us both a glass of wine. "I believe you owe me a story."

The assassin seems displeased as he finishes chewing. He leans back against a pillar while his eyes remain glued to the rain. "You really want to know that badly?" he questions.

"Yes."

Arno turns his attention my way before sighing. "I never knew my mother, and barely spent any time with my father since he traveled all the time to support the two of us. One day when I was eight, he just never came home. I had to take care of myself for some time before some men arrived and told me that he had been killed."

I'm too entranced in his story to continue eating. His fingers fidget while his eyes begin to stray back towards the scenery. "What did you do?" I ask in a low voice.

"One of the men brought me home with him. He gave me everything my father could never provide and more. I had become such a privileged brat that I did not appreciate the wealth I had fallen into."

I tilt my head slightly to the side as my brow furrows together. "If you had everything, why did you leave it?"

Honey-colored irises lock with my blue ones sending a chill down my spine. "Because the man who took me in died in the same manner as my biological father."

My breath hitches in my throat. "So you joined the assassins to get revenge for their deaths?"

"I did it to redeem for my failures to save them." His eyes droop with sadness almost bringing me to tears. I did not realize he had suffered so much. "When I uncovered the plans made by certain individuals that had lead to their deaths, I went after them, but was nearly killed in the process. An assassin saved me, and that is how I joined."

I stare at him, but he does not look back at me. Maybe I should have never asked…

"I joined the assassins after my father was killed as well," I say to draw him away from his dark thoughts. He finally has the courage to focus his attention on me once more, but his mood does not change. "He was murdered in a riot after he ran out of food he could spare for the starving. Even after all those years of helping the poor, they turned their backs on him and I was sent to an orphanage to rot. Had I not ran away, I would be dead right now."

He exhales a short breath of air while glaring at anything in the distance. "Here I am feeling sorry for myself when you've had to deal with much worse. I am still a spoiled brat, aren't I?"

"No," I retort earning a confused look from the assassin. "You received an opportunity that most of us were not so lucky to get. With death comes sadness, and some mourn longer than others, but life moves on and so will you. If you are fighting for redemption, so be it, but that ambition has turned you into an assassin. I don't see a brat, I see someone who is willing to risk his life for others."

The corner of his lips curl upwards and I return the smile. His irises move up and down as he observes me closely, but he soon grunts in pain while closing his eyes and covering them with his hands. "Not again," he mutters incoherently.

"Dorian, what's wrong?" I ask as I move to get a better look at his face. His arms do not budge as I try to maneuver his hands away from his eyes, forcing me to crawl on top of his sprawled out legs to get a better angle. "Dorian, let me see what is happening."

His jaw is clenched tightly as he hisses while removing his hands away from his face. His eyes are still sealed shut, but he reluctantly opens them at a slow pace. My lips part out of shock at the gold glow of his irises while he tries his best to keep his eyes open.

"You have the sense?" I question barely above a whisper as my hands travel to his temples to hold his head steady. I lean in close to observe the new color, but it vanishes before I could fully inspect it. "How did you learn to do that?"

I finally inch away from his personal space to notice the confusion on his features. "You know what it is?" he asks.

"Wait…you don't know?"

He lightly shakes his head. "I can't control it. It just happens when it wants to."

"How long have you had it?" I question while becoming a little too excited.

He shrugs. "It's been happening for as long as I can remember. It just has not occurred for some time now. I thought I was finally done with it."

"So you naturally have it?"

He nods. "Whatever that means."

I return my hands to his temples and lean in to examine his eyes once again. "Focus on the world around you, not just the spaces. Set a goal, a target, and locate it."

"How do I do that?"

"Establish an objective, and your sense will do the rest." He takes in a deep breath as his eyes slowly close for several moments before he squints and reopens them. His honey-colored irises are gold once again causing a grin to pass over my lips. "What do you see?"

The glow fades once again as he glances at me with an expression I've never seen before. My fingers leave his face as I begin to lean away, but the hand that snakes around the back of my neck stops me before Arno leans forward and seals our lips together. My heart beats wildly in my chest while my eyes widen out of shock.

The feeling in my gut is confusing, but it feels so amazing. This is not my first kiss, but the emotion that comes along with it is something I've never felt before. I close my eyes and let our lips flow together in simple harmony while his other arm wraps around my waist and draws my body closer to his. I am too enriched in the moment that I am not sure what I should do with my hands, so I eventually rest them on his shoulders.

Our lips slowly part before Dorian rests his forehead against mine and stares into my eyes. We do not say a word as we try to regain our breath while never breaking the gaze. I am not dreaming, am I? Did Arno really like me or is this just a spur of the moment ordeal?

The assassin pulls me closer once more and brings our lips together, but this time with more force. Any logical thought melts away as my arms wrap fully around his neck to lessen the space between us and sends my cluttered mind into bliss.


	15. Closer

**Hey guys, once again, sorry for the late chapter. ****I had a bit of issues thinking about what to write next with this type of subject matter, but I hope it is to your liking. **

**Anyway, thank you guys for the success of this story. It has already surpassed the love that Grim received and all of you have made that possible, so thank you once again for the amazing reviews and for following and adding this to your favorites. **

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 15: Closer

My eyes skim the lines, but the words do not stick in my mind. I huff as I try again; however, my thoughts drift away once more causing me to finally give up. My forehead bashes against the parchment as I fall forward onto the table while running both my hands through my wild hair. I can not contain the images floating around my mind as every last reminisce of Arno's touch burns at my skin. The want to be that close to him again turns into a need as I re-envision our kiss.

Dorian's lips are so lush and soft and he knew exactly where to put his hands…gah…I'm turning into one of those girls I see gossiping in the streets. The one thing I've always feared is this emotion. The council says that the assassins are allowed to feel compassion, but we should not let ourselves love another so graciously. It was the main reason why there were little to no families within the Brotherhood. The men pass down their legacies, but they choose to never marry. It is sad, but it is usually for the best.

"Is your book that interesting?"

My body instantly snaps upright at the sound of Arno's voice which causes him to chuckle in response. The familiar radiant of heat smothers my cheeks as he takes a seat on my bed and leans his back against the wall. I am forced to look away from the assassin as his stare alone seems to overpower my physique making it hard to breathe.

"I thought you were out with the others," I say as I close the book.

"Connor found a lead," he replies as he leans over to grab my novel from the desk. "Not all of the citizens that were sentenced to death have been executed. We can only assume that they are being taken elsewhere."

"Taken elsewhere?" I repeat with an arced brow. "The faction leaders love their public displays of eradication, why would random people be saved?"

Arno shrugs while opening to the first page of the book. "These men are an anomaly. We need to discover their plans before they commit a more heinous crime." A smile creeps upon his lips as his eyes scan the words on the parchment. "Les Liaisons Dangereuses?"

My attention finally snaps towards the assassin. "You've read it?"

He shakes his head. "I've heard of it, but I can not say I have read it." Arno gives that smug smirk that weakens my knees and sends my heart into a fluttering mess. "I did not take you as a woman to read such…perversions."

The heat on my cheeks only gets worse. "I have run out of things to read," I retort with a stutter, but it makes his smile grow wider. "Do not patronize my need to stay busy."

"'_Tu vois, ma bonne amie, que je te tiens parole, et que les bonnets et les pompons pas tout mon temps; il m'en restera toujours pour toi. J'ai pourtant vu plus de parures dans cette seule journée que dans les quatre ans que nous avons passés ensemble; et je crois que la superbe Tanville aura plus de chargin à ma première visite, où je compte bien la demander, qu'elle n'a cru traite beaucoup moins en pensionnaire que par le passé.'"_

My smile grows with every word as I try to suppress my laughter. Although I love the voice he uses when he reads, it does not fit with the sarcasm he is portraying with the novel. Standing from my chair, I move towards the bed and try to grab my book, but Arno holds it away until I decide to climb over him to get it. I feel his arm wrap around my waist before I am thrown against the mattress while the assassin crawls on top of me. His right elbow holds him up as his lips forcefully meet mine while his left hand snakes behind my neck.

It has been three days since the date, and the whole time was spent separated from one another as our duties called us elsewhere. Arno was with the others whom were aided by Connor to stop the slaughter of innocents that were being targeted just because of their titles. I; however, was supposed to be here, resting for the next few days after a training accident left me with an injured arm. It did not stop me though. After they left, I would go out and do my own research, but sadly the fruits of my labor did not pay as well as I had imagined. I fear I am going to need some outside help if I am to finish my work.

Our lips part for only a second, but Arno quickly reconnects them; however, this time, his kiss is soft and entrancing. My left hand grips at the back of his coat while my injured arm rests motionless on the bed at my side. The amazing electric shock rushes from my head to my feet, sending a wave a bliss over my muscles. Dorian's hand moves away from my neck and caresses everything until it rests against my thigh. He gingerly pulls my leg upward and cuddles our bodies closer together causing a moan to escape from my lips.

The moment I feel something hard against my inner thigh, my core trembles with a longing ache. I move my head to separate our faces, but Arno immediately leaves a trail of kisses down my throat and onto my collar bone. "Dorian," I begin, but another moan is released as the assassin gently moves his hips against mine. "Please, Dorian, we have to stop."

"Why?" he growls in a husky voice before placing a firm kiss against my jaw line.

"Not only is the door open, but the others will be home soon," I retort.

He finally stops his assault and maneuvers until we are gazing into each others eyes. "You are afraid of getting cau-"

My hand wraps behind his neck and I pull him downwards into a kiss. "I want this…I really do…" I mutter into between breaths. "But let us be cautious. You do not want Tristan finding out, do you?"

I feel him smirk while his teeth lightly graze against my bottom lip. "He can not be protective of you forever."

"He will as long he continues to breathe."

Arno's honey eyes meet mine as his hand cups my cheek. His thumb rubs against my skin before he brushes a gentle kiss against my lips. "If not now, when?"

I bite the inside of my lip to suppress a moan as his hips glide against my own. Dorian is one more motion away from me ripping his clothes off. "You are the one planning the dates, remember?" I playfully say which makes him chuckle.

"I can have one arranged before the sun sets," he jokes as he rests his head on the nape of my neck. His breath tickles, but I do not want him to move. My fingers subconsciously weave through his hair which is somewhat quite relaxing for the two of us. If only the world would allow for this moment to go on forever.

Sadly, we hear the door to the bureau creak open and our comrade's voices echo off the walls. Arno quickly plants a firm kiss against my lips and jumps from the bed. He gives a light smile before leaving me alone in my room once more with my thoughts. I hear the assassin greet our friends as they begin to discuss what they discovered and plans for future objectives. I should probably join them, but I have my own goals that need to be fulfilled while I am still able to get away with them not asking questions about my whereabouts.

Picking up the novel that was tossed aside, I open it to the page I left off and used the distraction to direct my mind away from the feelings bubbling at my skin.

X

Several more days pass, and once again Arno and I are limited to only a few words before we are separated by our assignments. Connor and Dorian have been working with one another while I've joined back with my three brothers to locate several members of the church that were reportedly missing. The days feel longer as the chill of winter becomes worse, but with the approaching cold comes more crime within the city.

Desperate for some sleep, Tristan agrees we will need our rest before we decide to take action against the factions responsible for the capture of the bishops and the nuns running the few churches left in Paris. With a loud yawn, I enter my room only to see Arno sitting at the edge of the bed with a smile on his face.

"You ready for dinner?" he asks as he stands.

"You could not have picked a worse time," I retort while trying to keep my eyes open.

He lightly frowns. "I understand if you wish to rest instead. We've been busy as of late."

I grin while moving to grab my coat off of the desk. "Well, if we do not take the opportunity now, we may miss our chance."

"I don't want to guilt trip you into this," Arno whispers as soon as my hand grips the black fabric. He maneuvers until he is behind me before placing light kisses along my shoulder. His arms wrap around my waist as his head buries into the nape of my neck while his breath tickles my skin.

"The door is open," I say as I attempt to move away, but his hold tightens.

"So?"

I'm finally able to break free before turning to gaze at the assassin. "Save it for later."

We both smile at one another while Arno ushers for me to follow him. As soon as we are outside of the bureau, the two of us wait until we are down the street before linking our arms together. For once, there is no room for silence as we make our way through Paris. We start with books we both enjoy before moving on to our interests and childhood dreams. We are so lost in one another's lives that our walk feels too short as Arno stops us in front of the _Église Saint-Élisabeth-de-Hongrie. _The church is small and simple in design, but the look on the assassin's face shows mild amazement in the architecture.

"Have you never seen this place before?" I question as he leads me to the door.

He shakes his head as he pushes the door open on creaky hinges. "The name has been appearing in many conversations around the city, but I have yet to investigate why."

Just like any other church, the place has been looted and left to rot. The pews that were once lined orderly in the _nef _are now scattered and stacked under the archways that line the side of the interior. The dome that rises above the altar is covered with the three-striped flag of France in order to hide the mural beneath while the altar itself has nothing left in its place but a worn table where grand furnishing used to lay. The only intact piece of furniture is the _chaise _that is built into the wall with a small staircase leading to it.

"This _l'église _was one of the few remaining in Paris that was being protected against the radicals who wished for the end of religion. The reason why you keep hearing about it is because the patrons who used to take care of it are now missing," I remark as we both circle the former altar.

Arno gazes from the dirt-spattered interior to my form as I approach from his left. "That's what you and the others are doing: locating where they were taken?"

I nod. "My only question is why would anyone target servants to a God? What good does that do?"

"We can only know once we find the ones responsible."

My attention turns towards the back of the church were the bishop's study would be and I venture into the corridors without hesitance. Dorian trails not too far behind as I try to enter the only room, but something on the other side of the door stops us from proceeding. It takes the two of us before we are able to open the aperture large enough so that I am able to infiltrate the study, but just like every where else, this place is also empty.

"How does it look?" Arno questions from the other side.

"Desolate," I reply before pushing the cabinet barricade out of the way of the door.

Dorian sweeps his eyes across the room and gives the same expression I did when I first entered. With the exception of a few items, the study is still intact with everything still in its rightful place. Whomever was in here obviously left in a hurry, but with the door blocked, where did he go? The two of us search every nook and crevice, but there is no sign of anyone here nor another way out.

"This room is rather fancy for a preacher," Arno states as we finally call it quits.

I glance at the large, plush mattress while my eyes droop out of lack of sleep. "You should see Cardinal Thomas' bed. He might as well been sleeping on a cloud."

Dorian chuckles as he sneaks up from behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and tosses my form onto the mattress. I'm about to get up, but he is instantly on top of me and using his weight to hold me down as his lips meet my own. My body shutters upon contact, but I soon relax and let the sensation of bliss take over. It's a much better feeling when I no longer have to worry about my brothers finding us interlocked like this which makes me want more.

Arno's skillful hand trails lightly down my waist until it grasps my thigh. Just like the other day, he pulls it upward before driving our clothed pelvises together. I moan out of delight, but his lips muffle the sound. We continue to kiss each other lightly before Dorian finally pulls away to stare into my eyes. We read each other like an open book and we silently let the other know what we want before our lips reconnect.

The assassin begins by removing his gaunlets while I remove my own. He tackles the first of the buttons on my coat while his blue one slides off easily. My cloak is the next to go before I play at his white waistcoat while he unlaces my corset. Our lips do not part until he moves to remove my white undershirt before removing the rest of the clothing on his torso. Both of our boots are somewhere on the floor now leaving us in our breeches. Arno sends delicate kisses down my exposed neck as he undoes the buckle on my belt and pulls the trousers and undergarments from my legs.

Those honey irises of his only take a few seconds to glance over my naked form before he is on top of me again. His clothed hips glide against my own as his lips attack the skin at the top of my right breast. The sensation coursing through my body arches my back which brings our forms closer together. My hands play at the button of his breeches and as I move to pull them down, his hand covers mine and he separates to gaze into my eyes.

"Are you sure you are ready to do this?" he asks in a husky voice. "Being your first-"

"It's what I want," I interrupt.

Arno says nothing more while bringing our lips together as he removes my hands from his trousers and takes them off himself without breaking the kiss. I feel his hard flesh against my entrance as he repositions our bodies until he is on top of me again. The tip barely brushes my clit forcing me to suppress a moan of excitement while Dorian moves his mouth to my ear.

"Ready?" he asks and I nod.

His hands steady my hips as he slowly penetrates the entrance before gently sliding the rest in. The pain is not as bad as I imagine, it is like a light pinch, but Arno allows for my body to adjust while his lips muffle my loud moans.

"Will you be alright?" he questions and I nod once again.

He places one arm above my head while his other circles around my waist before pulling back and re-entering. My sharp breaths slowly turn into moans with every thrust while my hands clasp at his back. Arno's hair slowly loosens from its ribbon and mine does the same from its braid. Despite the chill in the room, our bodies drip with sweat as Dorian continues his movements. My core tightens with an exhilarating sensation which causes my eyes to blur from excitement. The assassin nips at my neck sending my body to the brink of climax, but he stops before I can release every time. Arno's thrusts become faster as he drives his hips deeper into my own, sending me further onto the edge.

"Arno," I beg as I tighten my legs around his.

He merely smirks before wrapping his lips around the nape of my neck and sucking at the skin. My back arches out of pleasure while my core finally tightens fully and sends a wave of ecstasy throughout my body. Dorian plunges his hips several more times against my own before grunting one last time and releasing inside of me. He sighs as he collapses next to my form before taking me up in his arms. The two of us do not say a word as we regain our breaths; however, Arno maneuvers my bangs from my forehead to plant a kiss on the skin.

"That's the first time you've used my first name," he mutters as our gaze meets.

"Thought that God would want to know the name of the man who was stealing my virtue in a church," I joke causing the assassin to laugh.

Dorian grabs the dark blanket from the end of the bed and pulls it around our naked forms as he lies on his back and pulls me closer. We share one last kiss before the two of us doze off in a well needed sleep.


End file.
